


Pop Punk Pat

by hipsbrokenhearts



Series: Blind Faith [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 1988, 2019-2020 NHL Season, A lot - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Alex DeBrincat and Dylan Strome, Background Tyler Seguin and Jamie Benn, Eventual Smut, Hockey Player Jonathan Toews, Homophobic Language, M/M, Only in one chapter though, Patrick Kane is Not a Hockey Player, Patrick Sharp Is a Troll, Phone Sex, Supportive and inclusive nhl AU, happy endings, long distance, talking about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 66,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24761140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipsbrokenhearts/pseuds/hipsbrokenhearts
Summary: Jonny agrees to go to a concert, to see a band he's never heard of, with Cat and Stromer. Patrick happens to be the lead singer of the band they're seeing tonight, and just Jonny's type. Jonny thinks that the boys are just trying to get him to let loose, set him up with someone maybe. Little does he know that Dylan and DeBrincat know that Patrick is Jonny's number one fan.
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Series: Blind Faith [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023700
Comments: 102
Kudos: 219





	1. There’s No Time Like Showtime

“Cat, who are we seeing again?” Jonny said as he tugged his baseball cap down further over his eyes. They were at Aragon Ballroom, standing at the back by the bar so they wouldn’t be trampled by fans trying to get to the front, or recognized by their own fans.  
  


It’d been a while since he went out like this, just out with the guys, rather than a commitment for a Blackhawks’ charity event. A few years back, going out started making him a little uncomfortable, a little self conscious, since three cups made him more recognizable to his city. Most of the time, he was happy to stop and talk with fans and take selfies. He liked knowing how the fans were doing, they were as much a part of the team as he was. But, when he had just come off an unsuccessful season, and this one wasn't looking any better, those interactions seemed to put a little extra weight on him. Tonight, he was not wanting the attention of being recognized. Tonight, he just wanted to be Jonny, not captain of the twenty-ninth ranked team in the NHL.  
  
“Showtime, Jonny, keep up,” Debrincat quipped with a hint of a smirk. Jonny wanted to roll his eyes but resisted. Debrincat had had that little smirk all night long but Jonny didn’t know why. Since they picked him up tonight, it was like Alex and Dylan were sharing some private joke that he wasn’t invited in on. It was slowly driving him crazy, but he wasn’t going to show it... or maybe… not show it that much. Jonny stared down at Debrincat until his smirk flattened out.  
  
“Never heard of them,” Jonny said, instantly regretting it.  
  
Debrincat huffed out a laugh, “I know, Jon. You’re a thirty-year-old with the culture awareness of an eighty-year-old.”  
  
And this, this was exactly why he was here tonight. When Cat and Stromer cornered him a few days ago after morning skate and invited him to this concert, again, for a band he’d never heard of, he surprised everyone by accepting their request. Since Dylan joined the team, they'd been an unstoppable duo, asking him incessantly to hang out with them and he always begged off. It has nothing to do with them personally, he likes both of them, sees them as more than just teammates, as friends really, but that does not mean he wants to spend every waking moment with them.  
  
Usually, after being shot down, Debrincat and Strome just shrugged it off and went on their way. Not this time. This time, for some unknown reason, they really wanted Jonny to go to this concert with them. It had started three weeks ago, when they casually brought it up after practice and Jonny just brushed it off. A few days later, when they were on the plane back from Dallas, he leaned across the aisle and asked what they were doing. They told him they were listening to the new Showtime album and that Jonny just HAD to come with them to the concert in a couple weeks. He shut that down real quick. Then they started texting him event reminders, and Showtime song recommendations (that he never listened to), and he guessed that all of this just wore him down. So, when they finally asked him that one last time, he just accepted. The more he thought about it, the more he thought it was a good idea. That maybe, for his sake, his presence here tonight would stop all their invites for a while. Then he could finally get some peace again. Also, he was tired of all the jokes. He was only thirty one god dammit.  
  
“Jonny, this is supposed to be fun, remember? Loosen up, and drink this,” Dylan said as he walked up, handing Jonny some cheap tasting beer.  
  
“I’m having fun,” he said as he took a sip, “See?”  
  
Dylan rolled his eyes but let it slide as he started talking about some new netflix show he was currently watching. Apparently Debrincat had already seen it, so Stromer was whining about not wanting to hear any spoilers. Jonny tuned them out. He knew that he needed to chill out, that this was supposed to be fun, so he knocked back his beer and shook himself of any lingering anxiety he had about the night.  
  
“Did I ever tell you about the night we locked Seabs and Keith out of their hotel room?” Jonny asked them, seeing the stars in their eyes and knowing they were still new enough to the team, and to the league, to get excited over past pranks. “They ended up sleeping in the hallway the whole night.”  
  
“There’s no way they did that,” Dylan said, but Jonny just shook his head and chuckled, diving into the story.  
  
The opening acts came and went, and Jonny had loosened up enough that he was actually having a good time. Stromer and Cat had known a few of the songs from the openers, but of course he hadn’t. He didn't really listen to this style of music, and he wasn't even sure what kind of music it was until he asked Debrincat, who said “it’s pop punk, Jonny,” like he really was the dumbest fuck to walk the Earth. Maybe he was.  
  
“So, is there anything I should know about Showtime before they come on?” he asked.  
  
Dylan looked over at Alex, and they seemed to have a silent conversation between themselves before he said, “Not really, but the lead singer is sooooooooo your type.” Dylan stretched out the os like he was back in grade school sharing the newest piece of gossip. Jonny was glad he wasn’t taking a sip of his beer when Stromer said that because, if he was, he surely would have spit half of it back up.  
  
“WHAT?” Jonny squeaked, just because he had to make sure he heard him right.  
  
“Yeah,” Dylan shrugged, “The lead singer, Patrick, he seems like your type.”  
  
“How do you know my type?” Jonny stuttered out, so taken aback by this conversation. Jonny was out to the team, had been since he became captain so long ago, but he was a private person, and was caught off guard by Dylan knowing his preferences.  
  
“When we all go out after a win I’ve noticed who you take home, and you definitely have a type, Jon.” Dylan said this like it was all so obvious.  
  
“Oh,” he said, still a bit dazed.  
  
“Yeah, you’ll see. He’s got a great voice too,” Dylan continued on.  
  
Jonny nodded silently, still a bit caught off guard with the turn of the conversation. When he asked if he should know something about the band he meant something about their music or about the individual band members, not about how attractive the lead singer was. He started to wonder if this was why they wanted him here so badly tonight.  
  
And honestly, it was a little unfair if this was just a ruse to get him to hookup. It hadn’t been that long since he’d been with someone. It’s just, he wasn’t really in the mood when he was watching his team plummet through the standings, and friends get traded or just straight up leave after years of playing together. Not to mention Q leaving. Q. He cringes thinking about the guys knowing he's using Q’s departure as a reason he isn’t hooking up. It’s not like he was hooking up with him, jesus.  
  
But the organization was crashing down around him, fast, and maybe the blame for these last few unsuccessful seasons didn’t solely rest on him, but he felt it weigh on him nonetheless. He couldn't think about finding someone when he had to piece everything back together again. That’s all he thought about and maybe, yeah, that was unhealthy, and maybe Cat and Stromer were right to bring him here and let him forget it for one night. He hadn’t been with someone in a long while but that was his choice. Hockey comes first.  
  
Screams rang out through the crowd causing Jonny to jump in surprise, very nearly spilling beer over the front of his shirt. While he was lost in thought, the band had finished setting up, and now the lights were going down.  
  
“Whoa dude, where’s the fire?” Debrincat asked Jonny with a laugh.  
  
Jonny just rolled his eyes and smoothed out the front of his shirt, double checking that nothing had gotten on it. The last thing he wanted was a picture of him with a huge beer stain on the front of his shirt posted on twitter saying he was drunk off his ass tonight, when he’s literally only had one beer. Which reminded him that Stromer needed to go get another round.  
  
“Stromer, go get another round,” he ordered like he was barking out their next play.  
  
“But they’re about to come out, Jon,” Dylan whined, seemingly stomping his foot in the dark. Jonny tried his hardest not to roll his eyes again.  
  
“Fine, wait a few songs then go,” he said, and Dylan lit up like a Christmas tree.  
  
Movement from up front caught his eye, as he saw three guys make their way across the stage to their instruments. Screams started back up again and then the music did as well. A spotlight bloomed on the band’s logo printed on the banner that had unfurled behind the drummer. Then, suddenly, a compilation of sports announcers yelling plays started over the speakers, making Jonny feel like he was back at the United Center. They grew increasingly louder, and then he heard Jimmy Lennon Jr.’s voice ring out “It’sssssss SHOWTIME!”  
  
Strobe lights started up, and then focused on the middle of the stage, where a guy, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, was there beaming out to the crowd, his dimples showing.  
  
And that, that was enough for Jonny.  
  
The crowd pushed forward in waves, trying to get as close as possible to the guy who’s dimples you could see from space. Jonny was mesmerized. He also kind of wanted to join that sea and do the same.This guy, Patrick, he thinks Dylan said his name was, must have started singing, because the crowd started singing along, overpowering his own voice. Jonny couldn’t focus on the singing when he was lost in the way his strawberry blonde curls were shaping his face, and how sweat was already making them stick to the back of his neck. He wanted to feel those curls, and run his thumb over his sharp cheekbones.  
  
Jonny must have looked stunned, because, well, he was stunned, and he felt Debrincat nudge his arm and him and Stromer start laughing. He barely even registered this though, he was too focused on watching Patrick stalk around the stage. Jonny was zeroing in on his throat as he sang out the chorus of this first song, when Debrincat finally shoved him and broke him of his trance.  
  
“Wow,” Jonny said low, still a little in awe of Patrick. He finally looked over at both of them and saw them snickering. Cat had his Cheshire cat grin going and Dylan’s eyes were absolutely gleaming with mischief. Fuck them. But whatever. This must be the reason why they wanted him here so badly tonight, though he had no idea why they were so obsessed with setting him up with someone.  
  
“Stromer, go get us that next round,” Jonny said, trying to regain his control on this situation. Dylan whined but went, leaving him with Debrincat.  
  
“Do you even like this band or were you just trying to find someone for me to hookup with and this is your elaborate plan to do so?”  
  
Debrincat tried to dampen his smile, as he attempted to look at Jonny like he was crazy, which Jonny proceeded to see right through.  
  
“First of all, I’m offended you think I’m that obsessed with your love life. Second of all, we’ve been following Showtime for years, before we even met. Dyls and I have been there from the beginning with album one,” Cat said. He continued, “Of course we like this band Jon, we just also noticed that you might want to tag along for reasons other than the music.”  
  
Jonny blushed and nodded. These two were ridiculous trying to play matchmaker but at least they actually did like the band.  
  
Dylan came back then, and nodded at Jonny as he handed him his beer. Jonny threw back half of it, his mouth suddenly dry.  
  
His eyes gravitated back toward Patrick, as the latest song ended, and the music stopped completely. All eyes were glued to Patrick as he asked that the house lights be turned on for a minute. Patrick, distracted, started laughing a little bit over something the bassist had said, and he was smiling so big, Jonny thought his face must hurt.  
  
“Alright guys, how is everyone doing tonight?” Patrick asked the crowd. The crowd roared in response.  
  
Patrick shook his head and said, “Chicago, is that all you got, I asked how you’re doing tonight.” And this time the crowd was so loud Jonny kind of wanted to cover his ears.  
  
Patrick laughed and then began again, “Now that’s more like it, Chicago! I just wanted to stop before we got too deep into it and do a round of introductions. By now you probably know that we are Showtime, and that I am the night’s main entertainment.” A cocky grin spread across Patrick’s face. Jonny listened captivated, but couldn’t help but wonder where the hint of his accent was from.  
  
“Over on this side we have Artemi “Bread Man” Panarin on guitar,” Patrick said pointing to a guy with light brown curls exploding in all directions. Panarin did a little wave for the crowd.  
  
“And right behind me, the man who has the best view of my best feature for the entire night, is Corey “Crow” Crawford on the drums.” Laughter rang out through the crowd and Crawford shook his head, and leaned over to his mic to say, “Please, don’t ever say that again,” which caused even more laughter to erupt. Patrick just shrugged with an easy laugh.  
  
Patrick looked to his last bandmate, and smirking, said, “Well, I guess we are done with introductions, aren’t we? I don’t think I could possibly be forgetting anyone. Crow, why don’t you start up the next one?” Crow did just that, but the house lights stayed on while the drums started back up. The unnamed bandmate ignored his mic, and walked right over to Patrick’s, grabbing it and telling Crow to stop right fucking now. They had the whole crowd laughing, Cat and Stromer included, and the drums stopped as suddenly as they had started.  
  
Patrick wrapped his arm around the unnamed bandmate’s shoulders, pressing up all along his side, and looking up into his eyes. It took a second for Jonny to realize this other guy was stunning, but once he did, he couldn’t look away. He was different from Patrick, but completely breathtaking. He probably had the best hair Jonny had ever seen, dark and swooping back from his piercing eyes. He was beautiful in that leading man kind of way, that Jonny appreciated but that wasn’t his type. Not like how Patrick was his type.  
  
“I LOVE YOU SHARPY!” Someone in the crowd shouted out, and the mystery man laughed and thanked them, telling them he loved them too.  
  
“Aww I would never forget about you,” Patrick said as he took the mic back from him, “And this ladies and gentlemen is our bassist. This beautiful, god of a man, who brings all the ladies, and men,” Patrick winked, “to their knees. The irresistible, the oh so charming, Patrick “Sharp Shooter” Sharp.” Sharp laughed and shoved Patrick off him, and then made his way back to his corner of the stage. “How was that Sharpy, good huh?” Patrick asked him.  
  
“Pretty good I guess, Pat. Maybe it needs a little more flair next time, ya know?” Sharp said, beaming at him.  
  
“I’ll have to remember that for our next stop,” Patrick laughed, “Anyways enough with all this talk, who wants to get back to the music?” The crowd responded with enthusiasm, and Patrick said, “Alright Crow, for real this time, let’s start it up!” And with that, the house lights turned back off and the drums started once again.  
  
Jonny couldn’t get enough. Obviously Patrick was gorgeous, and the way he hung all over Sharp made him need things he didn’t want to begin to name, but he couldn’t get over how much fun Patrick seemed. How light and happy and funny his life seemed to be. Jonny wanted that, and he was drawn even more to him.  
  
He studied Patrick as he sang, not really listening to the lyrics he sang, just registering that Patrick had a good voice. After spending an extended amount of time studying the way Patrick’s full lips moved over the mic so closely, his eyes made their way down his body, and promptly stopped when he hit the center of his chest.  
  
“Sabres?!?!” he said in surprise.  
  
“What?” Dylan asked, obviously confused by his outburst.  
  
“Patrick. He’s. Wearing. A. Sabres. Shirt,” he said, pointing up at Patrick like he was hard to miss standing front and center on the stage.  
  
“Oh yeah,” Dylan replied with a shrug, “He’s from Buffalo, and a pretty die hard Sabres fan.”  
  
“Who knows why,” Debrincat chipped in with a smirk. Jonny allowed it only because the Sabres were one of two teams to actually be below them in the standings, which meant the Sabres really fucking sucked.  
  
Now the accent Jonny heard earlier made a lot more sense. It was obviously a New York accent.  
  
He listened to Dylan and Debrincat sing along, sometimes looking into each other's eyes with glee singing the words over each other, tripping over the lyrics they were so excited to get them out. Jonny was starting to realize just how much the pair actually liked Showtime. He wouldn’t be surprised if they used to have posters of them hung up in their rooms. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t still have Showtime posters hung up in their shared apartment now. Jonny wanted to roll his eyes at how ridiculous they were being, singing along and spilling beer everywhere while they danced terribly in circles around Jonny, but he was too excited by their happiness to try to put it down. Instead, he got out his phone and filmed a little video of their antics that he’d be sure to post later.  
  
Jonny realized the crowd had gone silent, well, was as silent as a crowd can go, and Patrick wasn’t pacing the stage anymore, but standing still, ready to sing right out to them all. Panarin, strumming his guitar, was the only thing that filled the place until Patrick’s deep voice joined in, ringing out to the crowd, the lyrics he sang finally hitting Jonny’s ears.  
  
“Ohh those 2 AM goodnight kisses,” Patrick was singing, emotion contorting his face into an emotion Jonny hadn’t yet seen on his face. Patrick grabbed the mic and sang into it, looking straight out toward the back of the venue, meeting no one's eyes. “I know this now, how you were coming home to me, only when you were done with him.”  
  
“You know, I always thought you’d be my forever,” he sang, eyes steeled. Sharp and Panarin both leaned forward into their mics and echoed with “I always thought we’d be together.”  
  
“When you were out there looking for better,” Patrick continued.  
  
“So lie to me just one more time, let me hear those three words. Spell it out for me,” and the crowd interrupted shouting out “L-O-V-E.”  
  
Patrick looked down and then continued, “One more lie, one more time. “I love you,” oh that’s the sweetest lie.”  
  
Jonny’s heart broke as he heard the drums and bass grow and Patrick repeat the lines over and over again. He wanted to know who hurt Patrick so badly that he would write a song like this one. Some douche cheating on him and making him feel so bad about himself even though he had done nothing wrong. Jonny tried not to ball his hands into fist but that seemed pretty much impossible, so he just tried to keep his temper in check. He couldn’t do anything about this obviously, he didn’t even know Patrick, but he still wanted to find out who did this to him and give them a piece of his mind.  
  
The song came to a close, and when it ended the crowd went absolutely crazy. Patrick wiped the corner of one of his eyes not too discreetly and laughed at himself a little.  
  
“Thank you guys, you really are the best,” Patrick told the crowd, and they cheered in response.  
  
“Enough of all that emo stuff though, let’s get to a different kind of emo now,” Patrick said. He was now fully smiling again, enough for it to meet his eyes.  
  
“I don’t know if you all know this, but there’s a little band that I love that calls Chicago home. They were, and, you know, still are very influential to me. When I was back in Buffalo, wondering what the fuck I was doing with my life, I would put on their stuff and the world would make sense, and basically ‘fix me in forty-five’ if you know what I mean.”  
  
The crowd apparently did know what he meant, because they cheered loudly. Jonny had no idea what he was referring to.  
  
Debrincat must have sensed his obliviousness because he took one look at Jonny, rolled his eyes, and told him “Fall Out Boy, Jon. Jesus.” Jonny just nodded like this was all so obvious.  
  
“So, of course, every time I come to Chicago I have to cover one of their songs. Since I know basically all of their songs, I’m down to take requests for this cover tonight. What do you all want to hear?”  
  
“Save Rock and Roll!”  
“The Kids Aren’t Alright!”  
“Thnks fr th Mmrs!”  
“Fourth of July!”  
“Dance, Dance!”  
  
“Aww such good ones,” Patrick replied, “I’m torn between pre and post hiatus. I’m thinking post though, I always do something off From Under The Cork Tree.”  
Crow bent over his mic and said, “Just pick something Pat, you’re killing us with the suspense.”  
  
Patrick laughed, pacing back and forth across the stage, and replied, “Fine. Ummmmm I’ll pick something off of MANIA, yeah? Yeah. How about Heaven’s Gate?” The crowd cheered with approval.  
  
“Alright! That’s final then! Boys, I’m expecting you to know this one since I basically promised we could play any of their songs,” he laughed, “Now, I’m no Patrick Stump but give me a chance. Let’s get this started.”  
  
“Oneeeeeee look from you,” Patrick began, and that stopped Jonny’s heart right then and there. Jonny didn’t think he could be any more captivated with Patrick, since the second he saw him he’d been utterly enthralled, but here Patrick was surprising him. The way his voice sounded, so different than with the other songs, it was just so powerful. For his own songs, at times, it seemed like he was kinda just talking and singing at the same time. But this, this was full on singing. His voice was so powerful and sweet at the same time. Jonny never wanted him to stop singing.  
  
“I got dreams of my own, but I want to make yours come true. So please come through,  
  
honey please, please come through,” Patrick sang and Jonny wanted to answer his pleas. He hung on to every word Patrick felt generous enough to give out.  
  
“You're the one habit I just can't kick. You're the one habit I just can't kick. You're the one,  
  
you're the one, you're the one, you're the one habit I just can't kickkkkkkkkk,” Patrick repeated over and over again and Jonny was starting to think the same.  
  
Even though the song wasn’t their own, the crowd knew all the words which surprised Jonny, but it really shouldn’t be that surprising since he knew next to zero about Showtime and Fall Out Boy and any other band that Debrincat and Strome listen to. When the song ended, it seemed like the crowd would never stop cheering, and Jonny felt the same. He was too mesmerized to cheer himself, but on the inside, man, he didn’t think he would ever stop. Patrick could sing, like really sing. Jonny wanted to know why he didn’t sing like that all the time. Probably because it would be too much for the world to handle he guessed.  
  
“Thank you, thank you!” Patrick said with a laugh, bowing, while the rest of the band rolled their eyes at him. “I hope I didn’t mess up any of the words too bad.”  
  
“YOU’RE PERFECT PAT!” Someone in the crowd yelled out, followed by “PATRICK, I LOVE YOU!”  
  
Patrick blushed under the lights and thanked the crowd again, saying he loved them too.  
  
“Alright, so usually we only do one cover a night but I feel like tonight we are needing two, what do you think, Sharpy?”  
  
Sharp smiled, and leaned over his mic saying, “They’ve been good, I’m thinking they deserve it.”  
  
“Oh, oh, oh, well if Sharpy thinks you’ve been good then you must really deserve it. This one’s so particular,” Patrick added, poking fun at Sharp.  
  
“It’s not bad to have high expectations and standards,” Sharp replied, running his hand through his hair.  
  
“I’m gonna act like there isn’t a deeper meaning in that just for me and keep on going,” Patrick laughed.  
  
“So, if you’ve been following Showtime for a while you probably know how much I love Chicago. Since the first step I took in Chicago, way back, probably ten years ago, I instantly felt at home here. I can’t explain it, and I don’t know why, but I’ve always felt it. Then when I got to explore the city and met its people I understood why. I mean, you’re fucking great, look at you!”  
  
The crowd cheered up at Patrick’s beaming face.  
  
“Now, don’t get me wrong, I love Buffalo, my hometown. I might be the only one-”  
  
“You are,” Crow interrupted, and the crowd laughed. Patrick flipped him off without turning around and continued, “I might be the only one, but I fucking love Buffalo. I guess you’ll just have to trust me about this one, if you’ve never been, and not listen to this hater in the back.”  
  
“I’m also a huge hockey fan. I mean clearly,” Patrick said pointing to his shirt, “But, don’t let this shirt fool you. I may be a Buffalo kid at heart, so the Sabres are my team no matter how bad they are. And I mean, how can you be that bad for that long? I just don’t get it, I mean really-”  
  
“We get it, the Sabres are bad Pat, get back on topic. You know, blah blah blah my man?” Sharpy said.  
  
Patrick blushed red, but then seemed to shake himself, delivering a cocky grin to the crowd. “As I was saying, you don’t get to choose who you love, and I fucking love the Hawks. Give me three cups in six years and I’ll let you do anything you want to me, I’m sure you know what I mean.” The crowd cheered out and Panarin nodded in agreement.  
  
“And the fact that you have the hottest man I’ve ever seen as your captain doesn’t hurt. I mean, have you seen those eyes? The things I would do to get him to stare at me like that, I mean-”  
  
“Patrick, wrap it up,” Sharpy said with a laugh.  
  
“So this is a long way of introducing our next song, a song that I’m sure you all are very familiar with here in Chicago. This one goes out to all of the Blackhawk fans in the crowd tonight, and my future husband, the absolute man of my dreams, Jonathan Toews.”  
  
The crowd cheers as the opening beats of Chelsea Dagger begin.


	2. Married At First Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonny's dizzy with shock over Patrick's admissions. Alex and Dylan are a little too amused for his liking. Consumed with both wanting to see if his attraction to Patrick stands up when they actually meet, and fear of not living up to Patrick's high expectations of him, Jonny finds himself looking for the courage to make up his mind at the bottom of a bottle.

“What the fuck?” Jonny said stunned, as Crow started up the drums. Then Sharp started up the bass, Panarin joined in, and Patrick finally joined in with the beginning howl. 

DeBrincat and Dylan were cracking up next to him, finally losing all the composure they had tried to hold on to all night. So this was why they were here. Not because they thought Jonny would be attracted to Patrick, but because they knew what Patrick thought of Jonny. 

Did Patrick know he was in the crowd? He reflexively reached up and pulled his cap down further. But, the more he thought about it, the more he thought that was impossible. If he knew Jonny was there he never would have said those things. Plus, the only people who knew he was here were DeBrincat and Stromer and they didn’t act like they knew the band personally. 

The “duh duh duh da da da duh” part of the song was in midswing and Cat and Dylan were giving zero fucks, dancing around and singing at the top of their lungs. Jonny was stunned they were even able to move, much less dance circles around him, when Patrick had just unknowingly dropped this bomb on him.

Jonny waited for the song to fade into other lyrics before starting in on them.

“You. Knew.?” Jonny said almost robotically, making it sound like both a statement and a question. 

“Of course Jon, who wouldn’t be in love with you?” DeBrincat said, wiping his forehead like he’d just completed a shift on the ice. “I was kind of in love with you before we actually met. You were my hockey crush, bro.” 

“Please stop talking,” Jonny said, holding up his hand to try to stop all this oversharing from happening.

“I mean, I’m not actually in love with you, that would be creepy, but-”

“Wow, thank you Cat,” Jonny interrupted.

“But,” DeBrincat continued, “When we met, I knew it would never work out. You can’t marry your childhood hero, it’s just wrong.” 

“Uhhhh hello? And the fact that we’ve been dating for the last four years. Does that ring a bell, Alex?” Dylan asked, rolling his eyes. 

“Wait, we have been?” DeBrincat asked, blinking dramatically, before wrapping his arms around Dylan’s neck and making a show of planting a kiss on his cheek. 

Jonny let DeBrincat and Stromer fade into the background as his brain finally started catching up to what Patrick had said. Patrick knew who he was? Patrick thought he was hot? Patrick called him the man of his dreams? Patrick called him his HUSBAND? Which meant Patrick was gay, right? Though straight men have told him things because he brought the cup back to Chicago, but he felt like this was different... 

Jonny was still stuck on the whole gay thing, and the whole Patrick wants to be his husband thing, when the “duh duh duh da da da duh” part of the song started up again and broke him out of his thought process. 

“Smile, Jon,” Cat said, and Jon looked over to see him filming Jonny stuck in his daze, standing like a goddamn statue, probably looking absolutely ridiculous while his brain was trying to process so many new revelations all at once. 

“Yo Jon, you know this song?” Dylan asked just to be an asshole. 

“I don’t know Dylan, I think I’ve heard it play while I’ve raised a few Stanley Cups. Have you ever heard it off the bench, Dyls?” Jonny said, smirking at him. 

Dylan’s face went red as DeBrincat cracked up beside him. Maybe he wasn’t losing his touch, Jonny thought, and began to sing along under his breath. 

Finally having the courage to look at the stage again, Jonny saw Patrick absolutely losing his mind. He was dancing his ass off, screaming the lyrics more than actually singing them, and wearing the biggest smile Jonny had ever seen. Patrick was making the rounds: back to back with Panarin for a bit, acting like he was going to give Crow a lap dance next, and then finally making his way to Sharp, doing a weird shimming move right up until he met Sharp’s chest. 

Jonny had so much secondhand embarrassment from Patrick’s horrible dance moves, but he was also kind of in love with it. He loved how free Patrick looked, dancing so terribly across the stage without a care in the world. 

As Jonny’s surprise, and annoyance at the two idiots who brought him here, wore off, he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. 

The things I would do to get him to stare at me like that. It rang through his ears once more. Patrick had said that about him. Jonny. And Jonny, he was starting to think he might actually get to do something about that. 

The end of the song started up with Patrick scream singing the “duh duh duh da da duh nuh nuh nuh nuh” and the crowd singing it right back to him, making Jonny feel as high as he usually did after scoring an overtime winning goal at United Center. While DeBrincat was filming Stromer dancing around, nearly spilling beer down his shirt and all over his shoes, Jonny decided to finally, just this once, let loose and join in on the fun. He flipped his cap backward and sang up to the sky, dancing between the two of them. 

For the rest of the concert, Jonny was mesmerized, his eyes tracking Patrick’s every move while his earlier words echoed through his head. Yes, Jonny had been completely enchanted with Patrick since the second he saw him on stage, but before, he never thought he was actually going to do anything about it. Jonny sees attractive guys on the street all the time, but that doesn’t mean he actually approaches them. (Though he doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone as good looking as Patrick before.) He was thinking it was going to be the same with Patrick. Jonny had not really wanted to pull the “I’m a famous hockey player” card tonight to try to get backstage and talk to him. Though that usually worked, some people didn’t see hockey players as famous, no matter how many Stanley Cups they had won. Besides, that seemed almost a little too predatory to Jonny. But, Patrick had been the one to bring him up, and Jonny didn’t think he’d mind if he decided to introduce himself. 

“Alright Chicago, I’m sorry to say, but this next one is going to be our last one,” Patrick announced. The crowd booed, and Patrick shook his head laughing. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll leave you with a good one,” he promised. “And anyways, I’m sure we’ll be back soon.” 

“You know Patrick, can’t stay away from his second home,” Sharp chimed in. 

“You got that right,” Patrick told him. “Besides, who else is going to make sure the Hawks turn their season around? They need me, I’m their good luck charm.” 

“And your husband might want you to come round,” Sharpy suggested, amusement dancing in his eyes. 

“You know that’s right,” Patrick said as cocksure as ever. Jonny, on the other hand, was having trouble breathing again. 

Cat, laughing at Jonny’s reaction, leaned over and patted his back like Jonny was choking on something. Jonny’s annoyance replaced his utter amazement, and he swatted DeBrincat away. 

“You okay there, Jon?” he asked, amused.

“Fine, just wondering how Patrick can possibly improve your game this late in the season,” he told him. DeBrincat, now unamused, rolled his eyes at Jonny. 

He watched Patrick strut back and forth across the stage as he gave the crowd his all for their last song of the night. 

Jonny felt altogether hypnotized, and, in a blink of an eye, Patrick had seemingly vanished after his goodbyes to the crowd, making Jonny wonder if Patrick had just been a mirage after all. 

“Come on,” Dylan said, grabbing onto Jonny’s arm. Jonny immediately shook him off.  
“Where are we going?” Jonny asked. Dylan and Alex looked a little too happy at the moment and it made him suspicious. 

“What, we’re going to go meet our good luck charm,” Dylan said. 

Jonny stopped right in his tracks. “No way,” he told them.

Alex huffed out a breath like he was dealing with an unpredictable child, and crossed his arms. “Why?” 

Jonny, with no good reason coming to him any time fast other than simply being nervous, answered with the absolute worst response, “Because.” 

“Because?” Cat shook his head while Dylan let out a little laugh. “That’s really all you got? Because?” 

“Why don’t you just go on without me while I wait at the bar,” Jonny said, trying, and completely failing, to get out of this. 

“Dude, you’re ridiculous,” Alex told him. “You’ve been drooling over Patrick all night, and the second he proclaims his love for you, literally in front of everyone, you start having a panic attack. I don’t know why you’re freaking out because someone you find attractive finds you attractive, it’s not like it’s that rare. Why can’t you be excited like a normal person?” 

Jonny stared him down and started counting off his fingers. “One, Patrick didn’t say he loved me, Cat, don’t exaggerate. Two, it isn’t rare people find me attractive asshole, I’m fucking Jonathan Toews, a literal gay icon, the face of an original six team, and a three time Stanley Cup Champion. Three, I didn’t have a panic attack, I was just surprised. I’m allowed to be surprised, aren’t I? And maybe I just don’t want to meet a fan tonight,” he finished off. 

“A fan? Really, Jon? Patrick isn’t some rando off the street. Hell, you are the rando in the scenario, coming up to him after his event. If you don’t want to come for some mysterious reason, so be it, but we’ll be going back stage. We’ve been waiting to meet them for years, and now we are recognizable enough to have an in.” 

Jonny just stood there silently, having no way to respond. Mostly because DeBrincat was 100% right and he just didn’t want to admit it. He knew that, if this was a few years ago, he would have just strode backstage to meet Patrick after the show, cocky and bold as ever, ready to make Patrick fall even more in love with him. But his confidence had taken a nosedive along with the Hawks place in the standing these last few years. Jonny was scared to meet Patrick and he just didn’t want to tell Cat that. 

Dylan and Alex stood watching Jonny for a few long seconds before shaking their heads and making their way to the stage, trying to figure out how to get backstage. They were definitely going to pull their “I’m a famous hockey player” card tonight. 

Jonny made his way up to the bar, ordered something a little stronger than the horrible beer Strome had been serving him all night, and pulled out his phone. Jonny knew he was being a coward by not even going to meet Patrick. He knew his fan excuse was bullshit. Jonny was just worried, things hadn’t exactly been going smoothly for him as of late, and he didn’t want to fuck things up with the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. Even if missing the chance to meet him was actually fucking it up more than if he just went to say hello. 

Jonny did a quick search for Patrick on instagram, already at the social media stalking stage. Jonny downed his drink, and after a few searches he found Patrick’s account pretty easily, @showtimepat. Patrick had a decent amount of followers, which wasn’t all that surprising since he was a lead singer of a band. His bio was “Lead vocalist for @showtimetheband” with a rainbow flag emoji at the end of it. As he scrolled through his feed, Jonny saw tons of pictures with Patrick and the rest of the band, though most of his pictures were with Sharp. He wondered if maybe they were a thing, since Patrick had been hanging all over him at some points tonight, but when he clicked on one of their pictures together the caption talked about how Sharp was like a dad to him, and not in the daddy way. Jonny didn’t want to even begin thinking about that. 

He ordered another drink, and continued to go through Patrick’s feed. He stopped though when he landed on a picture of himself. The post was from around a year ago, and it was a picture of him in a suit for some award ceremony he couldn’t quite place. The caption read “My husband couldn't get any hotter” with rows of hearts in all different colors. 

Jonny felt his cheeks heat up and he realized he was being a total idiot. Yes, he was afraid he couldn’t live up to Patrick’s clearly high expectations of him that he had built up in his head. And yes, he couldn’t bear the idea that his real life self would disappoint Patrick. But he needed to at least try. Meeting him didn’t mean he had to confess his crush, it just meant he had to say hello. He just needed to ignore all the stupid shit Cat was saying earlier about him having a crush on him before he actually met Jonny. It was messing with his head, thinking that he couldn’t live up to expectations. Was Jonny really a let down when the cameras were off and he was off the ice? He knew that’s not what Alex meant but it still had him doubting himself. 

The bartender brought Jonny his drink, and he downed it for some courage. Jonny was acting like a teenager who didn’t know if his crush would like him back. Yet he already knew Patrick did like him. It was absurd he was stalking his insta when he could simply be face to face with him in seconds if he wanted to. Torn between his want to see Patrick and the embarrassment he might face if he didn’t live up to his reputation, Jonny decided he might as well make a fool of himself rather than moping around forever. He put some cash on the bar, got up, and made his way to the side of the stage that Cat and Dylan had disappeared to. 

There was a security guard standing there, looking unimpressed and ready to be done with the night. Jonny plastered on his best media smile and approached him with an easy confidence. Now that he had decided to try to actually meet Patrick, he wasn’t going to be deterred. 

“Hey man,” Jonny said in greeting to the guard.

The security guard, Benn, his name tag read, grunted in response. 

Okayyyyy… Jonny thought to himself. Clearly, he was not a Hawks fan or this would be going a lot smoother. Jonny could tell when people recognized him, there was this certain gleam in their eyes, and he couldn’t find it in Benn’s. He wondered how Dylan and Alex managed to get back there. 

“I’m just needing to go backstage,” Jonny said, pointing behind Benn like he didn’t know what he was guarding. 

“Sorry, you can’t go back there,” he said, not sounding sorry in the least. Jonny felt like he was talking to an automated voice messaging system and he started to wonder if, if he said a certain number, it would grant him access. 

Jonny knew he shouldn't be upset that this guy was literally just doing his job, Jonny would be furious if the security the band hired didn’t protect Patrick and the rest of the guys, but he wished for just a brief moment that Benn would give it a rest. He racked his brain with how to get past before it hit him.

He let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head a little to really sell it, and said, “Actually I can, my husband is the lead singer for the headliner tonight.” 

“Who? Patrick?” Benn asked, his tough guy act cracking a tiny bit before simply replying “Where’s your laminate then?”

“Probably backstage with Patrick right now. You know, where I should be.”

“Call him then,” Benn said. “I can’t let non-approved personnel backstage.” 

“I can try but he’s probably busy. Not waiting around to answer his phone.”

Jonny pulled out his phone, brainstorming how the hell he was going to call Patrick to let him in when he didn’t even have his phone number. Jonny had a better chance with just shouting out Patrick’s name toward the backstage area. Patrick’s phone number wasn’t suddenly going to appear in his phone. He could call Dylan or Alex, but he didn’t think they’d answer his call, since they’d probably assume he was calling to tell them to hurry the fuck up. (He might have done that a few times in the past.) Jonny messed around on his phone looking appropriately flustered when another idea hit him. 

“See?” Jonny said, thrusting his phone out to him. Benn peered down at his phone, squinting. Then he grabbed Jonny’s phone out of his hand, studying the screen. Benn was probably trying to get a better look at the caption on Patrick’s instagram picture that he had pulled up, Jonny guessed. Benn’s gaze flicked between the picture of Jonny in a suit and the Jonny standing right in front of him once, twice, three times. Jonny was just about to make another show of annoyance, his arms just about to cross over his chest, when Benn gave him his phone back.

“I’m sorry sir. Make sure you remember your lament next time.” And with that, Benn moved aside and Jonny was in. 

Jonny had been backstage at some concerts before, usually summers after cup wins, but those concerts were always at venues he was familiar with because they were home to NBA and NHL teams. He hadn't ever been backstage at a venue this small before, and he wasn’t sure how to navigate it. Surely if he just kept walking he’d run into DeBrincat and Strome. 

He was desperately trying to act like he didn’t just sneak back here, simultaneously messing with his phone and trying not to walk too fast, when he heard someone walking toward him. Projecting confidence so they wouldn’t question why he’s here, he looked up to meet the passing person's eyes, and was suddenly three feet away from Sharp. Jonny flinched, a little, unable to help his immediate reaction, and he watched Sharp’s head tilt as he squinted at Jonny. Then his eyes grew huge as laughter exploded out of him. Jonny gave him a sheepish smile. 

Sharp closed the short distance between them, shaking his head in disbelief, and clapped Jonny on the back like an old friend. 

“Man, I can't believe you're actually here. Patrick is going to lose it. I can't wait to see his face. How are you possibly here??” 

Up close, Sharp was even more stunning, and it took Jonny a second before he could respond. 

“We’re in Chicago man, I live here?” Jonny told him, like it was all too clear why he was backstage right now. 

Sharp laughed, good humoredly before saying, “Well, duh Jon. Can I call you Jon? But I know you aren't a fan of our band.” 

Jonny couldn’t really deny that, but he also didn’t want to insult the guy. Plus, he was fairly certain he was a fan of anything Patrick did at this point. 

“Yeah, but Strome and DeBrincat are. Huge fans by the way, I’m surprised they weren’t at the barricade vying for your attention,” Jonny told him with an easy laugh. 

“Oh, really? That actually makes a lot of sense,” he said with a nod. Jonny could feel Sharp scrutinizing him, not so subtly looking him up and down, and it made Jonny itch. He didn’t think Sharp was trying to make him uncomfortable, and if he was in Sharp’s shoes, he too would be looking Jonny up and down wondering where the hell he came from. 

“Yeah, they kind of forced me to come tonight,” Jonny said, scratching the back of his neck self consciously. “Told me a lot of reasons about how it would help the team’s game improve if we hung out outside of the rink, and how I’m never too old to have fun and all that bull shit, but I’m starting to think they had an ulterior motive.” 

“Yeah, they might have been onto something else,” Sharp said knowingly, and they both laughed. 

“Well, why don’t I walk you back to the man of the hour then? I’m sure he’ll be complaining to me later tonight about how I’d been trying to keep you from him.”

“Sure, man,” Jonny said, so relieved he had an escort that his nervous excitement to meet Patrick was pushed to the back of his mind. 

“Patrick Sharp by the way,” Sharp added as they made their way down the hall. “You can call me Sharpy though, everyone does. It made no sense to have two Patrick’s walking around, honestly confusing as hell the first few weeks the band got together, and, you know Patrick, he wasn't gonna be the one to change his name. So, it’s been pretty much Sharpy for the last ten years straight. The only one who calls me Patrick is my wife.”

“Great to meet you, Sharpy. Jonathan Toews,” Jonny told him, like he hadn’t already called Jonny by his name. 

“You know, I kind of already figured that one out, Jon,” Sharpy said, grinning. 

“Well, just wanted to clarify and make sure you weren’t confusing me with Tavares,” Jonny joked. 

Sharp put his hand over his heart and told him fiercely, “I could never!” 

“Besides, Pat would never let me make such a grievous mistake.” 

“He’s really that big of a fan, eh?” Jonny asked, wanting to know what he was about to walk into. 

“Oh, you have no idea,” Sharpy told him as he placed his hand on Jonny’s shoulder and led him deeper into the venue. Once they turned the corner, he could see into a room a little ways down. Alex and Dylan were facing Jonny, and Patrick’s back was toward him. 

Patrick was still in his tight jeans and Sabres shirt, though his Sabres shirt was now sticking to him with sweat. He was a little shorter than Jonny had realized, since he’d only ever seen him standing on a stage, but he wasn’t really all that short, taller than Cat standing right in front of him. And as Patrick was speaking to Dylan and Alex, he ran his hand through his curls, making them spring up in all directions. Jonny was fascinated. 

The three of them were engrossed in conversation, probably all three of them just straight up fangirling about each other, but as Jonny got closer, Dylan’s eyes caught Sharpy’s and then landed on his. The second Cat spotted him, his signature grin took over his face, looking a little too pleased for Jonny’s liking, that asshole. 

Sharpy and Jonny were only a few feet away now. Any second and he’d be right behind Patrick. He took a deep breath, while still trying to keep it subtle in front of Sharpy, and tried to calm his nerves. He shook himself. He could do this. He knew he could. What was it that he had told Cat earlier? That he was a gay icon, the face of an original six franchise, and a three time Stanley Cup Champion. Jonny had never really been one for modesty, and everything he had said was true. He just needed to start acting like it. 

Before Sharpy or Cat, or anyone else for that matter, had the chance to embarrass him with some most likely inappropriate introduction, Jonny seized the opportunity himself.  
  
“Oh there he is!” He said, a little too loudly for just Sharpy’s ears, as he was obviously intending to be overheard. “It’s so nice to finally be meeting my husband.” 

Patrick’s body seemed to still for a second before he whipped around, coming face to face with Jonny. 

“Oh, fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you for all the initial reads! I'm having a lot of fun with this story and I hope you are too. As always, kudos and comments are appreciated <3  
> Have questions/comments/suggestions/etc. visit me on tumblr at hipsbrokenhearts.


	3. The Rush Of A Blush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonny and Patrick finally meet. Patrick is a blushing embarrassed mess. Jonny has some major heart eyes. Sharpy and DeBrincat are there to help make sure it all (doesn't) run smoothly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's excited the boys are finally meeting?! Thank you for such an amazing response so far to the first two chapters. I'll be busy working pretty much nonstop this week, so the next chapter might be a bit delayed, but know I'm still working on it! Also, I'm thinking this will be about ten chapters.

“Jonathan Toews,” Jonny said, as he offered his hand out to Patrick. 

A bright red blush was violently blooming across Patrick’s face as he stood there, motionless, just staring up at Jonny. Patrick made no move to shake Jonny’s hand, or to introduce himself, he seemed shocked into silence. Jonny could feel a smirk climbing up one side of his face, he was all too flattered that he managed to have this effect on someone, literally leaving Patrick speechless, but he also desperately wanted Patrick to talk so to interrupt Sharpy’s raucous laughter from beside him. 

In the impending silence, time slowed, and Jonny was able to get his first glimpse of Patrick up close. Jonny’s senses were overwhelmed and he didn’t know what to focus on, whether it be on his striking blue eyes which were meeting his with such wonder and intensity, or his sharp cheekbones that Jonny just wanted to run a finger across, or lower, to his parted plush lips that drew Jonny in closer, or the stubble along his jaw that Jonny wouldn’t mind feeling against his skin. He couldn’t even handle processing Patrick’s curls. They were wild, going in all directions, and begging to be touched. 

He was devastating to Jonny. Absolutely devastating.

Time stopped its slow crawl when Panarin not so discreetly cleared his throat. That seemed to restart Patrick, as he visibly shook himself. 

“Patrick Kane, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, and finally took his outstretched hand. 

While Jonny was trying not to think about where else he’d like Patrick’s hand he said, “You were great tonight, man.” 

“Th- thanks,” Patrick stuttered out, looking up at him through his eyelashes. Jonny watched Patrick’s blush creep down his neck in amazement. He couldn’t believe it. Patrick looked nothing like the guy he saw earlier who had had confidence coming off him in waves, and who had shamelessly danced his way around the stage. The Patrick in front of him was red as a Hawks sweater and all together shy. 

“I really enjoyed-” Jonny began before Patrick interrupted him. 

“You were at the show tonight?” He seemed to squeak out, his voice going a little higher at the end. 

“Yes?” Jonny answered him confused, “With Dylan and Cat.”

“For the whole show?” Patrick said like the answer was pressing.

“Yes?” 

“Oh my god,” Patrick muttered to himself. He shrunk his shoulders in, like he was trying to get smaller, folding into himself. 

Before Jonny could respond, Sharpy started cooing over Patrick, wrapping his arm around him and messing with his hair. Patrick tried to shove him off, with no success, which only made Sharpy’s laughter start up again. 

DeBrincat found his way to Jonny’s side then, huffing out a laugh and whispering, “Dude, I think you broke him.”

“Shut up,” Jonny told him. He literally hadn’t done anything, just said that he enjoyed the show.

“I’m serious, Jon. He was normal before you got here. Fully functioning. Now he looks like you just checked him into the boards so hard he doesn’t know what year it is, but that he wants you to do it again.”

“That literally makes no sense,” he whispered back. 

Alex rolled his eyes at Jonny. 

“I just saw a man experience every possible human emotion. Like, literal elation the second he saw you, which, who knows why.” 

Jonny elbowed him before Cat continued, “I’m pretty sure shock would be an understatement to what I saw, he was completely bewildered. Which quickly seemed to change though, when you confirmed you were at the show. Then he seemed to die a little inside as he realized you heard him say all that stuff about you on stage.” 

Before Jonny could process that, Dylan popped up on his other side and said, “Dude, do you think he’s going to pass out?” 

Jonny couldn’t believe he had to deal with these two idiots. He took a deep breath before wrapping an arm over each of their shoulders. 

“Please, for once, stop talking.” 

Before Dylan or Alex could immediately disobey his wishes, Sharpy decided to start introducing the rest of the band to Jonny. 

Panarin was fiddling with his guitar to his left, but looked up to give Jonny a small wave. Crow was laid out on the couch that was pressed up against the wall on his right. He looked completely entertained, laying back to watch the car crash meeting happening before him. 

“I just had a great idea,” Sharpy announced after the introductions were through. “What if we took some pictures for the band’s page? Wouldn’t that be great, Pat?” 

Patrick’s eyes darted to Jonny’s then, but then quickly away, and he half heartedly agreed with him. 

“Yeah, let’s do that. Why not? Should be able to send it over to Hawks PR too, to get some good press going about how the team doesn’t want to kill each other despite the standings.”

Crow laughed before getting up and making his way over to them. “I’ll go see if I can get Tyler before he puts his camera away. Lord help us all if we have to see Grandpa Sharp over here trying to take a good picture.” 

“Hey! I can take good pictures!” Sharpy said, aghast at the accusation. 

“No, you look good in pictures. There’s a difference,” Crow explained. 

Sharpy seemed pleased enough with that answer, because he only shrugged and joined Crow as they made their way down the hall in search of Tyler. 

With their departure, Stromer and DeBrincat seemed to fade into the background, and Jonny was left standing next to Patrick. 

Jonny racked his brain for something to say. Nothing. Exactly nothing was coming to him. What could they possibly talk about? He really didn’t want to say anything that might make Patrick feel embarrassed but there wasn’t really anything they could talk about but the concert tonight. Jonny knew Patrick liked the Blackhawks but he really didn't want to go into something that depressing so, 

“So, I think it might have gotten lost back there, but I really enjoyed the show tonight,” Jonny told Patrick. 

“Oh.” Patrick seemed surprised even though they had already gone over this, “Thank you.”

“The covers were really great. I had never heard the first song-”

“You had never heard the first song??? It’s an instant classic,” Patrick interrupted. 

“Clearly, but-”

“He’d never even heard of Fall Out Boy,” Dylan interrupted him, shouting this out a little too loudly when they were only a few feet away, not rooms away. 

“WHAT? How is that possible? You live in Chicago,” Patrick said, his shyness finally shedding away. Now this was a Patrick that Jonny was more familiar with. 

Jonny was rubbing the back of his neck when he answered. “Yeah, you know, I’m not really into music, so.” Johnny shrugged. 

“Even people who aren’t into music,” Patrick quoted back to him, “know who Fall Out Boy is. I’m glad I could at least right this obvious injustice tonight.”

Jonny rolled his eyes but gave Patrick a small smile so he wouldn’t think Jonny was actually upset. 

“Anyways, Chelsea Dagger was awesome. You should have seen Dylan and Alex, they were fucking losing it.”

“I would have liked to see that,” Patrick said laughing, but a small blush was rising back to the surface. 

“I’m sure they got it on video, I’ll send it to you if I can get my hands on it.”

“If you can manage it, send away.”

“There was really only one thing I didn’t like tonight,” Jonny began, lost in faux contemplation, “Your voice is amazing, there’s no denying, it’s just….” 

“...What?” 

Pausing to be a dramatic asshole, Jonny looked Patrick up and down, lingering a little too long on how his sweaty shirt was sticking and showing off Patrick’s abs.

“Its,” Jonny tilted his head back and forth, “That Sabres shirt. It’s not a good look.” 

Laughter burst out of Patrick, and he flicked his gaze down for a second before opening his mouth to respond. “Hey man, Buffalo may have had one bad season but-”

“One?” Jonny interrupted. 

Patrick shook his head with a smile. “I’ll admit they might not have had the best last few seasons but with Skinner-”

“Jon wouldn’t mind if you took it off, ya know?” DeBrincat interrupted. “Since that shirt is sooooo offensive to him. Right, Jon?” 

Jonny tensed, frozen in shock for a second before he stared Cat down. No fucking way was Alex going to start with that shit now. Jonny was starting to consider if it really would be that hard to accidentally push Cat into moving traffic later tonight when he heard Sharpy’s voice coming from the doorway.

“Interestinggggg,” Sharpy dragged out while strutting back into the room with Crow, and who he presumed was Tyler, in tow. Sharpy was sending significant looks Patrick’s way, and now Jonny was having to plan how two people could accidentally walk out into traffic. 

Tyler, trying to hide the hint of a smile he was sporting, walked up to Jonny to introduce himself. 

“Tyler Seguin,” he said, as he shook Jonny’s hand. “And I gotta say, I’m a huge fan. Triple Gold Club by the age of 22. God, I’m pretty sure I cried when y’all got the third one.”

“It’s nice to meet you. You a Hawks fan I’m guessing?”

Tyler tipped his head back and laughed brightly. 

“Oh, god no, man. No offense,” Tyler was quick to add, “But I’ve been a pretty big Dallas fan for a while now. I’m more of a Toews fan than a Hawks fan. But any team that wins that much in that short of time impresses me.” 

“I’ll take it,” Jonny said with a laugh.

Then Sharpy was in what Patrick most likely refers to as full on dad mode, moving everyone around to their certain spot for the group photo. Of course, after Tyler introduced himself to Alex and Dylan, he was right behind Sharp, making quick adjustments, and making sure Panarin actually joined them instead of strumming his guitar in the corner. 

Naturally, Patrick was front and center right next to Jonny. He didn’t want to get too close to Patrick and creep him out, but that left him standing almost a foot away. 

“Toews, can I have you move closer to Pat? I only have about half of Strome right now.”

Jonny closed the gap between them, and could feel the warmth radiating from Patrick. He wanted to reach out and feel the extent of his heat, but resisted. 

“Perfect, boys,” Tyler said, before snapping about fifty pictures. Jonny felt like he was at an NHL media day.

When Tyler lowered his camera, everyone started drifting away, but before Jonny or Patrick could get too far, Sharpy was saying, “Why don’t we get one just the two of you? Pat, give Tyler your phone.”

Patrick obediently gave Tyler his phone, and the other guys moved out of the way so not to be in the background. 

Patrick came back and stood equally as far as Jonny first did. Jonny could hear Tyler sigh, and then he waved his tattooed arm in a motion that clearly meant that Patrick should get closer. 

“Okay, look like you two like each other fellas, you look like two fucking robots that got placed together in a storage closet.” 

“Jonny doesn’t bite, Pat, move,” Sharpy added. Patrick scooted over to stop Sharp’s orders. 

“I mean, not unless you want me to,” Jonny said, as he wrapped his arm around Patrick’s shoulders, pulling him in that last little bit until their sides pressed together. 

Patrick’s blush was still going strong, but he was laughing, and Jonny couldn’t stop watching the way his laughter made his eyes light up. 

“Got it!” Tyler said, giving the phone to Sharpy. 

“It was really nice meeting you,” he told Jonny. 

“Same man, let me know if you’re ever in Chicago again. I’ll make sure to hook you up with some tickets.” 

“You’ll be hearing from me I’m sure then,” Tyler said, shook his hand one more time, and was out the door. 

“Sharpy, I’m gonna need to see those pics, send them to me,” Jonny called to him. 

“What’s your number, I gotta input it in Patrick’s phone,” he emphasized. 

Jonny rattled off his number, quick, and Sharp put his hand up. 

“Hold up, hold up. What were the last four?”

“1-9-8-8” 

“Okay, there we go,” Sharp said as he handed Patrick back his phone. Patrick took it from Sharp’s outstretched hand, and pocketed it. Patrick then made his way to Jonny and asked, “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” He looked around, noticing Sharp and Dylan just a few feet away and added, “Like, over there?” 

“Sure thing,” Jonny told him, and he followed Patrick as they went out into the hall and into a different room across the way. This room was half the size of the last one and looked like it was used as extra storage for sound equipment.

Patrick turned to him, but didn’t say anything for a second. He couldn’t tell if he was shy, embarrassed, or both, but Patrick looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. He was honestly starting to feel a little guilty about making Patrick feel this badly. 

“So, I just gotta say it,” Patrick said like it pained him. “I’m so fucking embarrased. I mean, I never thought you’d be at one of my shows. I didn’t think you even knew me or the band existed. You know, like how you never think you’re gonna meet the president or, okay that doesn’t apply to you because that’s something you actually do, but like how you don’t think you’re ever going to run into Leonardo Dicaprio.”

“You can not possibly be comparing me to Leo,” Jonny interrupted his monologue. 

“I am. But basically what I’m saying is never, ever,” he emphasized, “Did I think you’d show up at one of my shows to see me. I never would have said what I said.” Patrick stopped to cringe recalling what he said. 

“Would not have said that if I knew you were there. I am so sorry. And then you’ve been so nice to me out of sympathy when I really don’t deserve it, but, of course you’re so nice. I wouldn’t expect anything else. Even though you did just hear some random guy gush all about you in front of a bunch of strangers, though those strangers agreed with me, if you didn’t notice, and well, I’m really sorry, I-” 

“Did you mean what you said?” Jonny asked, trying to stop Patrick’s rambling.

Patrick did not seem to be expecting that response because he just stood and looked up at him blinking. 

“Patrick, did you mean what you said?” 

“Yes, Jonathan, if you really want me to admit it. Yes, I did mean what I said. You’re the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, the man of my dreams, et cetera, et cetera,” Patrick said, looking ready to flee. 

“Don’t be embarrassed then.” 

Jonny just shrugged as Patrick tried to stutter out a response. 

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, but if you want to make it up to me, you could join me for dinner, eh?” Jonny told him. 

“I,” Patrick started but then stopped for a second. “I would really like that.” 

Patrick didn’t look like he was going to run at any second now. Now, he was looking up at Jonny with a hopeful little smile tugging at his lips. 

“Great, because I know the best pizza place around the corner.”


	4. Take A Little Pizza My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonny and Patrick go on a (kind of) date and get to know each other in the parking lot of a pizza place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **EDIT** Chapter four is now complete! Thank you to everyone who read Chapter 4 Part A and for being so patient! I'm posting chapter five right now as your reward! Two chapters at once, what could be better? 
> 
> Also, Jonny irl has a bunch of diet restrictions, but we are just going to ignore that for now...

“I can’t believe you’re eating that.”

“What? I’m hungry,” Patrick said, mouth full of pizza and words tumbling out. 

They had managed to escape the guys without too much of a scene, just Sharpy screaming “Use protection!” which, of course, caused the apples of Patrick's cheeks to redden.

The pizza place, Rosati’s, was just around the corner, and they didn’t have too much trouble when they walked the block and a half it took to get there. A few fans managed to recognize them and stopped them for a quick chat or selfie. And when he says recognize them, he really means recognize Patrick. Jonny was just a bystander for these fan interactions, with no one seeming to recognize him at all. It was a little insulting, they were in Chicago no less, but Jonny just rolled his eyes when Patrick smirked over at him. The way Patrick lit up talking with his fans, more than excited to ask them what they thought about the show and listen to them talk about their connection to his band, made Jonny feel things. Things he didn’t want to focus on too closely. He knew he was falling hard already, and he’d only known Patrick a few hours. But the way Patrick’s eyes shined and the sweet smiles he gave made Jonny walk just the tiniest bit closer to Patrick, just wanting to keep him near. 

So, when they got to Rosati’s, and Patrick pointed out the Blackhawk jersey framed on the wall with a wink, Jonny knew he was in trouble. 

When Patrick ordered a large pizza, cheesy bread, and zeppole, and then turned to Jonny and asked him what he wanted, because that apparently was all for him and Patrick wasn’t sharing, and Jonny realized Patrick was about to eat enough food for two hockey players post game like it was just another night, Jonny thought he wouldn’t mind getting surprised by Patrick at every turn. 

And when Jonny ordered, and then paid for the both of them, Jonny recognized that he’d do anything to see that shy pleased smile that Patrick shot him in thanks. 

So there they were, sitting on the curb, a few feet away from the bright beacon of the pizza place, in front of an empty store that had long past closed for the night, food between them, and stars shining above them. 

“You ordered a salad, you don’t get to have an opinion,” Patrick said, finishing his third slice in record time. 

“My diet is important to me,” Jonny said, bringing some caesar salad to his lips. 

“And I appreciate your dedication, I really do,” Patrick said, looking him up and down. “But that also means you don’t get to talk.” 

Jonny rolled his eyes as Patrick shoved two pieces of cheesy bread into his mouth at the same time. Strings of cheese were being stretched between the bread between them and his lips. Jonny just handed him some napkins. 

“Please tell me you don’t eat like this every night,” Jonny said, seriously starting to worry about his health.

“One, stop trying to shame me for my eating habits-”

“I’m not shaming you, I’m just-”

Patrick held up his hand, “And two, no, I don't always eat like this. But shows can be fucking exhausting. They are such a fucking workout -I’m not sure if you noticed- and that makes me fucking starving, and the idea of choosing between pizza and cheesy bread was an impossible choice. Plus, now I have breakfast tomorrow already figured out.” 

Jonny tilted his head from side to side considering. “Well, when you say it like that, how could you really choose when you earned both?”

“Exactly!” Patrick said, pointing slice number four, five?, at Jonny for emphasis. 

“So,” Jonny started, but stopped to clear his throat before beginning again, “I should probably admit now that I’m not actually a fan of your band.”

Patrick's eyes went wide, as his chewing slowed.

“No, I mean, I did enjoy the show tonight. I just mean that I didn’t really know Showtime existed before tonight, or, well, you. Cat and Stromer dragged my ass here after three weeks of pestering me into coming.”

Jonny was nervous about Patrick’s reaction, but he thought it best to just be honest. No way could he act like he’d been following Showtime. He may know the members, but that’s only because Patrick introduced them on stage. He couldn’t name an album or recall a song title. All Patrick would have to do is ask his favorite song of theirs and Jonny would be fucked. 

“I knew it!” Patrick said, shaking his head with a laugh, “I knew it. I knew you weren’t a fan.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would that bother me? It’s not like I’m fucking Taylor Swift or something. Yeah, I’m famous to some people, but I’m not a household name.”

“You’d think so after our walk over here,” Jonny said, grinning. 

Patrick was smirking now, finally taking a break from the pizza to move on to dessert. “When’s the last time that happened to you, huh? When you’ve gone out and people didn’t recognize The Jonathan Toews, Captain of the Chicago Blackhawks, but recognized someone else you're with?” 

“Probably when I would go out with Seabs my rookie year,” Jonny told him, recalling the memories fondly. “We would go out and people would recognize him instantly. Now sometimes we go out and people only recognize me,” Jonny laughed. “He doesn’t really appreciate that.”

“Oh, I bet he doesn’t,” Patrick said smiling. 

“So, why all the Chicago love?” Jonny asked him. 

Patrick put his dessert down and shook his head back and forth in thought before answering. “Well, you’ve probably already noticed, but I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, Jon,” Patrick leaned over the food containers between them and continued in a mock whisper, “I’m gay. Like really fucking gay, and I’ve never been good at hiding it.”

“I’ve noticed,” Jonny said, not unkindly. 

Patrick laughed, smirking. “Yes, me announcing that I dream of making you my husband is so subtle, I know. So, as we’ve established, I’m pretty fucking gay. I have no problem telling people, but you know, some people do have a problem with it.” Patrick looked down for a second, and cleared his throat before continuing, “I’m sure you already know all about it being the first out NHL player.”

Jonny nodded. He knew how fucking hard it was. How strangers that had never even met him hated him just because of his sexuality. They didn’t just hate him though, that wasn’t enough, they wanted to tell him. They’d tell him on the street, comment it on his social media, scream it from the stands. Jonny couldn’t even begin to understand that kind of hatred, but he felt it. 

“As much as I love Buffalo, I wasn’t really accepted there. Crow, and the other guys, they don’t understand it. How could I love a place that didn’t love me back?” Patrick shrugged his shoulders, “But it’s my home.”

“I get that,” Jonny told him, and reached across the closed pizza box, and the open zeppole container, to place his hand on top of Patrick’s. Patrick looked down at where their hands met, and with a small smile continued. 

“The band’s been together a while now, over ten years, and on our first tour we stopped in Chicago. It made sense, we were just doing a north eastern thing, and back then we weren’t big at all. We were just starting out, you know? And Chicago had a lot of small venues to choose from to play in.

“On our way to the venue, the streets were lined with rainbow flags. I know it sounds insane, but I felt like it was for me. It was like nothing I’d ever seen. Most people I knew back then, that knew me personally, accepted the” he stopped to do air quotes, the “gay thing” I had going on, but they weren’t head over heels supporting it. They accepted, but not supported. But beggars can't be choosers.” 

Jonny knew exactly what Patrick was talking about. The streets of Chicago painted rainbow by the flags flying proudly in front lawns and pinned up in store front windows. Streamers all about, in every color, and rainbow lights lining the top of some of the stores. The United Center had glowed rainbow as well, a proud beacon in the middle of it all. 

“I couldn’t believe my eyes. I’d never seen that much support, or love, for people like me, people like us,” Patrick said as he wrapped both hands around Jonny’s. 

“Sharpy made me get out of the car and have a little photo shoot in this gay fucking city,” Patrick shook his head laughing. “I loved it here. Instantly. It was the first place that I felt truly accepted. I knew it couldn’t be perfect -nowhere could be- but it felt like it.” 

Jonny would love to see the pictures of young Patrick posing in the rainbow streets. He could imagine the smile beaming from his lips, and the laughter in his eyes next to all the brilliant color surrounding him. 

“Of course, you know why it was like that. It was before your first home game after you had come out. The city’s way of welcoming home their new captain. Their way of telling you they had your back. The dates just happen to line up with our stop. It was fucking magic.”

“It really, really was.” Jonny said, remembering. His own heart had stopped when he first saw it all. He’d been nervous about the home opener for a number of reasons, the captaincy, and his sexuality the primary reasons, but after arriving through those streets the fans had painstakingly decorated for him, he had no worries at all. 

“Is that when you first developed your crush?” Jonny asked, trying to lighten up the conversation for Patrick’s sake.

As relief relaxed Patrick’s face back into that proud smile Jonny had seen him wear so much on stage, Patrick brushed Jonny’s hand away and said, “No way. I’d say it was during all your draft coverage, but it was probably that first season you were with the Hawks. The rookie with the killer eyes on his way to win the Calder, how could that not have gotten my attention?” 

Jonny rolled his eyes good naturedly. “Please,” he said exasperated. 

“Hey, you asked!” Patrick said, laughing around a zeppole, powdered sugar puffing out in clouds around his mouth. Jonny really wanted to rub off the excess sugar around Pat’s mouth and taste it for himself. 

“So, tell me something about you I don’t already know. No stats or one on one interview confessions because I’ve read, watched, and listened to them all,” Patrick told him matter-of-factly. 

“Ummmmm, what do you want to know?” Jonny asked, rubbing his neck nervously. He was a private person but was more than willing to share himself with this gorgeous man in front of him. He just didn’t know what to say. Jonny really had to admit that he was as boring as everyone thought he was. 

“What do you do for fun?”

Jonny leveled Patrick with a stare. “Skate,” he said flatly.

“Jon.”

“Gardening.”

“Something I don’t already know, Jonny.”

“Go to concerts?” 

Patrick laughed, openly. “We both know that’s not true.” 

Jonny smiled at Patrick, enjoying the feeling of sharing a joke with him. 

“I’m pretty boring. My life basically revolves around hockey and my foundation,” he shrugged.

“Yes, but what do you do to relax? Clearly it doesn’t include music, but do you watch netflix, read? And no, those leadership books you read don’t count.”

“They count, but yes I do those things. But I’m not really invested in them.”

“You’re hopeless,” Patrick told him through a smile. 

“What’s one thing that’s not on your wikipedia, Jon? I can’t believe it’s this hard for you.” 

“Well, probably something you haven’t read is that if I wasn’t playing hockey, I’d probably be a stripper.” 

“Jon.” Patrick said exacerbated. 

“I’m serious, I would be. I like showing off and I have the body for it.” Jonny could feel the smirk rising upon his lips but couldn’t stop it. Patrick was kind of sort of choking on his dessert in response to his statement, but he didn’t think he needed help. When Patrick had calmed down, he tried to level a stare back Jonny’s way but wasn’t quite succeeding. 

“I know what you’re doing,” Patrick pointed at him, “And that was unfair of you to put those images in my head.” 

Jonny laughed, full body shaking with it, as Patrick joined in. 

“You never know,” Jonny told him as their laughter died down. 

“One can only hope,” Patrick told him. 

Jonny checked his phone then, and saw it was almost one in the morning. He groaned internally knowing this was going to bite him in the ass when he tried to wake up for morning skate tomorrow. He was supposed to go to bed early before game days, not go to concerts. 

“Need to head back?” Patrick asked.

“Unfortunately.” 

“No problem Jon, just let me get this cleaned up.” Patrick had finished his dessert and was now combining the leftover cheesy bread and pizza in one box and going to throw away the rest. 

“Do you need to grab a ride here, or?” Patrick asked him when he returned. 

“I was thinking I’d walk you back to the bus if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course, Jonny,” Patrick told him. 

They started walking the short block back to the venue, their hands brushing one another, and Jonny’s thoughts drifted. Patrick didn’t live in Chicago. He was currently traveling the country. The thought selfishly didn’t sit right with Jonny. He wanted to get to know Patrick, beyond just tonight, and he wanted him in Chicago. Patrick could be leaving tonight for all Jonny knew. 

“So, how long are you staying in Chicago?” Jonny asked.

“We’re leaving the day after tomorrow. We’re going to the game tomorrow.”

“Oh really?” Jonny said, lighting up. Patrick then seemed to remember who he was talking to, as that oh so familiar blush started to creep back onto his cheeks. 

“Shut up, Jon,” Patrick told him, sounding mildly embarrassed. 

“Do you have good seats?” He couldn’t help but tease him a little. 

“I haven’t bought the tickets yet. I usually buy them day of to get the best prices.” 

“That literally makes no sense, Patrick. Resale tickets are usually way more expensive.”

“How many hockey games have you bought tickets for lately?” Patrick leveled at him. “Besides, my schedule can be unpredictable sometimes, and day of usually people lower their prices because they just want the tickets sold.”

“Let me get the tickets for you,” Jonny offered. He wouldn’t mind helping Patrick out, especially if it meant continuing whatever it was between them. 

“Really?” Patrick asked, having stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, with wide eyes staring up at Jonny. 

“Of course, it’s not a big deal, Patrick.” 

“If you say so.”

“I say so. Where would you prefer to sit, box seats, or?”

Patrick shook his head and began walking again. “That’s way too far. I like to be at glass, really get a good look at the guys.”

“Oh, I bet you do,” Jonny told him, teasing. 

Patrick’s blush spread but he didn’t back down, “That’s obviously why I’m at the game, Jon. Need to see you up close and personal.”

“Well, I can make that happen,” he said as they turned the corner and were met by the Showtime tour bus. They made their way to its door and stood in front of it awkwardly. Neither of them wanted the night to end, and Jonny didn’t know the appropriate way to say bye. He wanted to get Patrick a lot closer, run his hand through those curls and feel Pat’s breath panting against him between kisses, but didn’t know if that would be taking advantage. 

Jonny cleared his throat. 

“I should get going, need to get some sleep for tomorrow. But I’ll text you, about the tickets.”

“You really don’t have to do that, Jonny.”

“I know, but what are the perks of knowing a hockey player if they don’t even get you free tickets?” 

“I can think of a few other perks,” Patrick told him, his gaze flickering between Jonny’s lips and his eyes. 

Jonny assumed it wasn’t taking advantage if the other person was of age and was completely consenting. And with the eyes Patrick was giving Jonny, Patrick was both. He grabbed the pizza box out of his hands and set it down beside them. 

“Oh yeah?” Jonny asked, closing the space between them, and running his fingertips along Patrick’s jaw. 

“Yeah,” Patrick said, sounding breathless. 

Jonny’s eyes searched Patrick, but all he could see was the want in his eyes. He could feel Patrick’s blush as he cupped his face with both hands, inching closer to Patrick’s mouth, which had parted in anticipation. When a mere breath was between their lips, Jonny flicked his eyes back up to Patrick’s, silently asking permission one last time, and then their lips met. Their lips were barely doing more than brushing against each other, but Patrick was already wrapping his arms around Jonny’s neck, pulling their bodies closer. 

Jonny was trying his hardest to restrain himself and be gentle when all he really wanted to do was shove Patrick against the nearest wall and claim what was his. His hands were beginning to tremble with the need to run them through Patrick’s curls, so he gave into the temptation and tugged just the tiniest bit at the curls on the back of Pat’s head. 

Patrick moaned, and deepened the kiss. His lips had parted, and his tongue was now slipping past his lips to trace Jonny’s. Jonny could feel Patrick’s hands gripping his shirt so tightly, pulling at the material along his chest, and Jonny just wanted the damn thing off so he could feel Patrick’s hands against his skin.

When Patrick started rutting against him, something in Jonny switched. He was just a man, and he could only take so much. The tight grip on his control loosened and in one swift motion Jonny pinned Patrick back against the bus, caging him in. He turned the kiss into something much more heated before Patrick broke it in search of air. Patrick sucked in deep breaths, as he exposed the long column of his neck to Jonny. Jonny accepted his invitation and his lips started to explore all the exposed skin before him. He made his way down to nip at Patrick’s collar bone, and began to suck deep bruises below the collar of his shirt. 

As Jonny’s lips explored, he could feel Patrick’s interest against him growing, and he mentally thought of all the places where they could take this further. Before Jonny could say anything to Patrick about it, he heard a loud banging sound, which seemingly vibrated Patrick’s skin beneath his fingers. 

Patrick jumped away from the bus panting. The noise had stopped, but before either of them could say anything they heard Sharp’s voice from inside the bus yelling, “Stop defiling the bus and come inside!” 

Patrick was beet red when he yelled back, “Mind your own business! Stop watching us, perv!”

“I wasn’t watching! But who could concentrate with all that moaning happening!” 

Patrick couldn’t get any redder, but if he could, Jonny knew that he would. 

He could hear the laughter in Sharpy’s voice, and knew he wasn’t actually upset, but it was probably a good idea that he stopped them before Jonny started to undress Patrick in the middle of the street. He didn’t think that would go over too well if that got out to the public. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, eh? Maybe after the game?” Jonny asked Patrick, as he brushed his thumb against the red of Pat’s cheeks. 

“For sure. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

They just stood there, staring at each other, neither of them making a move to leave or do something more. Another loud bang interrupted them, just as Patrick was beginning to lean forward and he groaned. 

“Give it a rest! I’m coming! I’m coming!” Patrick yelled to Sharpy. 

Patrick rolled his eyes, snuck a quick kiss to Jonny’s lips, and went inside. 

\----------------------------------------------------

Patrick was laying on his bunk, as his throat was slightly burning and his wet curls were dripping on his pillow, wrapped in fluffy plush blankets. Life on the road could be grueling, with non-stop days and moving from city to city constantly. Patrick appreciated the little comforts he could find, like wrapping himself in cozy blankets after a long day. 

He couldn’t believe these last few hours had been real. 

The show had been great, Chicago is always one of his favorite stops, but he had no idea what was going to happen after the show. No idea who he was going to see. Who he was going to meet. 

Jonny.

He couldn’t believe it. 

And that kiss. God. He could still taste it on his lips and feel a phantom hand tracing along his jaw. 

He was even more perfect in person. Of course he was, he was Jonathan Fucking Toews. 

Dazed, Patrick pulled out his phone and swiped over to instagram. He had a little over 900K followers so he didn’t have post notifications on, but he loved to get on after a show and see new fans that were following him, and posts from the show that fans had tagged him in. The least he could do was like and comment on some. He knew that meant something to them. 

He clicked on a few, watching a video of him from someone who must have been at the barricade, because it looked like he was singing down directly at them at one point, and seeing pictures of him from further away, arms wrapped tightly around Sharpy and giving him a wicked smile. 

He continued to scroll through his activity notifications until he saw a name that caught his eye. @jonathantoews had followed him back, and there was another notification about him liking one of Patrick’s pictures. 

Patrick’s heart soared seeing that Jonny followed him back and quickly screenshotted it. He needed to remember this moment forever. He needed to frame this. He didn’t care if it wasn’t that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things because it was a big deal to Patrick that his celebrity/hockey crush had followed him. Jonny had followed him back. Just the fact that he actually knew who Patrick was still shocked him. 

After many deep breaths, Patrick went back to look at the picture that Jonny had liked. Hopefully not one of the embarrassing throwbacks he’d posted from his high school years, but one of his sexy sweaty post-show shots that Tyler had taken. Tyler knew more than anyone how to make someone, Pat included, look good. Patrick definitely wouldn't mind Jonny seeing those photos. 

So, he clicked on the notification, hoping against hope for a good pic and groaned. Staring back at him was Jonny’s stupid face looking stupidly perfect. 

“Fucker.”


	5. A New Pregame Ritual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonny prepares for that night's game and tries (and fails) to avoid the team's exploding group chat.

Jonny woke up the next morning by the beeping of his phone, the team group chat going off for some unknown reason ungodly early. He opened up the chat with bleary eyes and the first thing he read was “Way to let your hair down, Jon. I’m happy for you,” from Brent. 

Fuck. 

Suddenly he was wide awake and was thumbing through his phone to get to instagram. Jonny hit Alex’s icon at the top of the screen and was immediately met by Dylan dancing like one would assume a college aged white boy would dance. Horribly. But Dylan didn’t seem to care as he danced on the opposite side of Alex from Jonny. It was during one of the first songs Showtime had played last night, probably the first, since Jonny didn’t see them holding any of the beer Jonny had ordered Dylan to go get for them. You could hear Alex’s voice in the background, singing along, as Dylan made an absolute fool of himself. 

He prayed the guys were talking about that. 

The next insta story was of Dylan’s smiling flushed face blurred in the background as Alex and Dylan were knocking their beers together repeatedly. A bommerag he thought Cat had called it? The fact that he’s not 100% sure does NOT make him old. 

Then there was a video of Patrick singing the Fall Out Boy cover. Alex had zoomed in so it focused more on Patrick than the crowd, but after a quick second he zoomed out and panned over to Jonny. 

God. It really was as bad as he thought it was going to be. 

He saw himself standing there, mouth open just the tiniest bit, looking completely entranced by Patrick. Seeing his own eyes so wide and unblinking made him want to just close his eyes for good. Alex had even added a tiny gif at the bottom of the story of Spongebob with heart eyes. He could just picture Alex in the back of his head saying “that’s what I would call heart eyes, Jonny” with a quick smirk leveled at him before sharing it with Dylan. 

He hated that he could picture that.

The next story was almost worse. It had to have been right after the song because the camera was on Patrick, not currently singing, and you could hear voices in the crowd screaming, “You’re perfect, Pat!” and “Patrick, I love you!” Alex had written out over the video, “Jonny showing Patrick some love” with the crying laughing emojis and red heart emojis following it. It was obviously not his voice but still. If Alex’s goal was to embarrass the fuck out of Jonny he was succeeding. He might be taking the Hawks’ PR team’s motto “One Goal” a little too seriously. 

Jonny could see that there were still four stories left and he didn’t know if he could stand to watch the rest. This was a horror story plain and simple, with more gore than he could bear.

He hoped like hell that this was the worst of it and that all the other stories were just of Dylan’s horrible dance moves. 

He was wrong.

Horribly, tragically wrong. 

Because the next thing he heard was Patrick saying “You don’t get to choose who you love, and I fucking love the Hawks. Give me three cups in six years and I’ll let you do anything you want to me, I’m sure you know what I mean.” Jonny heard the crowd cheer, and then Patrick continue on to say, “And the fact that you have the hottest man I’ve ever seen as your captain doesn’t hurt.” Dylan had literally tagged the Hawks official instagram account and then added three of the eyes emojis, like this was a perfectly normal thing to post and that he wasn’t broadcasting to the world part of Patrick’s confession. To be fair, Patrick did say this in a room of hundreds of people, but still. Alex didn’t have to post that. 

At least he had kept Jonny’s reaction private. Well, he hoped he did. He tapped to the next story.

It was of Dylan asking Jonny if he knew the song playing, and Cat had caught him telling Dylan “I think I’ve heard it play while I’ve raised a few Stanley Cups. Have you ever heard it off the bench, Dyls?” Jonny's current smirk matched that of his in the video. At least the whole world got to see the way Dylan’s face had heated up in embarrassment. 

Jonny was the star of the next story. Even though it began on Patrick screaming the final “duh duh duh da da da duh'' to the crowd, it quickly focused on Jonny. He had already flipped his hat around by then and was singing up at the sky while dancing around Alex and Dylan. Dylan’s beer was dangerously close to spilling, but no one had paid it any mind, too focused on the song to worry about it. Cat’s camera was shaky, probably due to his own dancing, as it followed Jonny dancing and singing along to Patrick.

Jonny couldn’t stop watching. He hit the left side of the screen to play the story over and over again. He was smiling, ear to ear, a grin that dominated the bottom half of his face and had set his eyes ablaze. He almost didn’t even recognize himself, he looked so happy. This video alone was enough to put that old Captain Serious nickname to bed once and for all. The fact that Jonny looking happy seemed shocking and utterly rare was something he didn’t want to dive into, so he tapped to see the final story.

It was of the band and of the three of them after the show, backstage. Alex had tagged all the guys in the band and put their @’s at the top left of the story and Dylan and his @’s at the top right. Below the picture of them he had written “Had the best time FINALLY seeing @showtimetheband in Chicago! Can’t wait until next time!” 

Groaning, he laid back on the bed, pulling the covers around himself. He didn’t know if he’d ever recover. 

Everything about last night was coming back to him. Not just the concert, but everything afterwards. Meeting backstage, dinner just Patrick and him, the walk home, and the moments before they were rudely interrupted. He felt the ghost of Patrick’s lips on his as he traced his bottom lip remembering. 

He took a deep breath and then went back to the group chat and read it in silent dread. There were lots of screenshots of Dylan dancing and of Jonny. Lots of heart emojis, and plenty of gifs expressing all of his teammates’ reactions. Alongside Brent’s annoying reaction of letting his hair down, almost all the guys were chirping him good naturedly about his ability to finally not take things so seriously. There had also been a poll created on who had better dance moves, Jonny or Dylan, and Jonny checked to see that the vote was 15 to 1 right now, him leading. That one was probably Dylan and didn’t count. 

As much as the guys were just celebrating and poking fun at Jonny finally acting like a normal person and going out and having fun, they were also digging into Jonny and Patrick’s relationship. Not that they had a relationship. They were friends. Or friendly. Or, well, Jonny didn’t really want to label it. For god sake, they had just met last night. But the boys were talking about it and asking for a play by play from Stromer and DeBrincat like it was the fucking Stanley Cup Final. 

Alex had told the guys all about Jonny’s “love at first stare down” and how he basically had a panic attack when Patrick called him his husband. Dylan added a gif of some white guy blinking and said, “Jonny when Patrick breaths in his direction.” 

DeBrincat added that he was a “total coward” and refused to meet Patrick after the show but that ultimately “his dick got too hard and he couldn’t refuse himself the opportunity,” which literally made no sense but eight people had laugh reacted to it.

Jonny rolled his eyes. He was a private person. Everyone on the team knew that. Sure, he was publicly out, but that didn’t mean that was the only thing he talked about. It wasn’t like he was hiding it though. When he was in committed relationships, he had no problem bringing them by to meet the guys, or adding him to the list for the friends and family box they had for every game. But his last serious relationship ended four years ago and for some reason this was a big deal to the guys. They followed Jonny’s relationships like teenage girls follow One Direction or whatever the fuck they followed these days. Jonny knew it was their way of showing that they cared about him outside of the locker room and the rink, that they didn’t care that Jonny dated guys and supported it, but sometimes it was a little much. 

Duncs, of course, the asshole that he is, set a huge wave in motion by saying “Get Patrick to agree to another date and I’ll pay. If you can even lock that down…” which resulted in lots of crying laughing emojis, and jokes about Jon’s game. Conversely, there were others defending Jonny’s ability to get a second date, in what primarily narrowed down to comments on Patrick’s reaction to Jonny (Dylan) and on the size of Jonny’s dick (Brent and Alex). 

Jonny just shook his head when he had finally caught up, and swiftly sent a message to the group that read, “Shut the fuck up already. See you at morning skate assholes.”

Jonny knew he should get up and start the day. He needed to make a smoothie and get a move on. It was a game day and he wanted to stick to his routines, though honestly, he didn’t have that many compared to some other players. But he wasn’t one to just lay in bed. Usually once he was up, he was starting his day within seconds.

Today though, today he thought he could make an exception. He turned over and opened up instagram again, already tapping on Cat’s insta stories. He knew Patrick had probably already seen them, but he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. At least Patrick was realizing that Jonny basically had the same reaction to Patrick that Patrick had when meeting him.

He watched the one of him dancing over and over. The smile he was wearing was huge; he didn’t think he had looked that happy in a long time. Maybe years. Which was a depressing as fuck revelation, so Jonny tried to ignore that part.

He thumbed back to his text conversation with Patrick. 

The pictures that Sharpy had forced Tyler to take of the two of them were there at the top. In the pictures, Patrick was glowing. Tyler must have captured it when Patrick was laughing at Jonny’s lame ass joke, because his eyes were lit up and he was smiling brightly toward the camera. Jonny wasn’t looking at the camera though, he was looking down at Patrick with the same kind of smile he was sporting in Cat’s video. His arm was wrapped around Patrick’s shoulders, and the way they fit together, it looked… intimate. Jonny could feel the energy between them even still.

It was a good photo of them together, and definitely worthy of instagram. He knew he was going to get so much shit from the boys, but, really, he already was, so he might as well post it. Every person from Chicago to Winnipeg had probably already seen the videos Cat posted and knew exactly what Jonny was doing last night. He might as well post his own. Maybe reinforce to Patrick that last night wasn’t just some sympathy hang out with a fan. Jonny didn’t see him that way. Besides, there is nowhere Jonny would have rather been last night besides some random pizza parking lot with Patrick.

Jonny went back to instagram and started adding the photo of them. He had already saved the photos when Sharpy had sent them to him from Patrick’s phone last night, so he wasn’t worried about that. Jonny didn’t add a filter, because, even though he had an instagram, he was not down for all of that. He tagged Tyler (@tylerseguindickpics) for photo credit and posted it. 

Jonny immediately went to his page, saw the picture in the top left, and clicked on it to see the comments and likes spring up. He read the caption one more time.

“Had a great night seeing @showtimetheband at Aragon Ballroom last night, thanks for the shoutout @showtimepat.” 

Jonny heard the group chat exploding with notifications and he groaned again, lying back on the bed, and covering his face with both hands. He was so gone on Patrick. 

***

Getting four glass seats together the day of seemed very unlikely, but he figured he’d at least try. If he couldn’t, he’d at least be able to get them close. He texted Jenny, who they usually contact for ticket related inquiries, and waited for her response before letting Patrick know. 

Jonny drove to morning skate mentally preparing for the game that night. He needed to focus, and they needed to win. Not just for Patrick, but for all of their fans, and themselves. They’ve dropped the last two and Jonny was tired of losing. He couldn’t do another better luck next time/ we just need to work harder interview. It was meaningless this far in the season with a record like theirs. But that didn’t mean they should just tank. They needed to prove to themselves that they could still play this game that they loved and dedicated their lives to. Not just play but play well, play better than everyone else. Jonny had proved that many times already, but that didn’t mean he just wanted to fade into the background. There could always be number four, or five waiting around the corner. He had a dream of winning back to back and that wouldn’t happen if they kept playing like this. So, they needed to win. For them. 

(But mostly for Patrick, who was he kidding?)

The more he thought about the tickets for Patrick, the more he thought he’d have a pretty high chance of getting them. They were playing like garbage right now, and this might be the only advantage of losing the last two and dropping the last five consecutive home games. Jonny hated losing more than anyone, but if he got the tickets, he’d count that as a win. 

He parked at Fifth Third Arena and checked his phone to see if Jenny had responded yet. She hadn’t, but he wasn’t really worried about it since he wasn’t a selfish asshole and figured there was more to her job than just getting tickets for him. He’d just check back after morning skate. Jonny took a deep breath and got out of his car. He mentally prepared himself for all the bull shit the team was about to throw at him, set his shoulders, and went inside. 

The first thing he heard as he made his way down the hall was music turned up way too high coming from the locker room. The fact that they usually played music only after skate or a practice should have clued him in on something, but he was so struck with how odd it was that he didn’t question it further, he just tuned it out. That was his first mistake. 

He walked into the locker room and was met with whoops and hollers. Guys were huddled around Stromer and DeBrincat, most likely spinning some dramatized version of last night for those listening. The guys actually getting ready by their stalls weren’t doing themselves any favors because they still had amusement dancing in their eyes like they knew something he didn’t. Fuck them. As he passed by, guys were literally patting him on the back like he had just scored the game winning goal that was taking them to the playoffs. 

His team was ridiculous. 

Jonny walked right up to his stall and met a smirking Seabrook. Jonny didn’t even want to entertain him and decided to ignore him. He knew if he engaged this would only lead to his own embarrassment. Jonny took off his shirt, preparing to change and actually do his job like the others should be doing, and he noticed Seabs checking him out. Like obviously checking him out. Jonny rolled his eyes and finally met Brent’s. 

“Why are you checking me out?” he said, unamused. 

“Oh, just checking to see if Patrick left any marks,” Brent said faux casual. He was still wearing that stupid smirk. 

Jonny just stared back at him unblinking and continued to change. He could feel everyone turn to listen to their conversation, but he didn’t care. He didn’t have time for this. Not if he wanted to make sure they gave it their all tonight. They needed to get in a good practice. They needed to win. 

Clearly, Brent didn’t feel the same because he stayed glued to Jonny’s stall, eyeing every piece of skin Jonny revealed.

“I think this is sexual harassment,” Jonny said, monotone. 

He knew sexaul harassment wasn’t something to joke about. Nothing about it was funny. But, years ago, when he came out publicly, that’s all the media could talk about. How could he be in the same locker room as the straight guys? Was he taking advantage of them by watching them undress? Showering with them? Was that sexaul harassment? 

The whole thing was laughable and infuriating. He told them time and time again he wasn’t watching anyone undress or shower when he was too busy undressing and showering himself. After a season of that, the Hawks’ PR team finally banned the media from asking questions of that nature. But sometimes, when it worked to Jonny’s advantage, he thought it was okay to joke about it with the veterans who were around when it happened. 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Jon,” Seabs said pushing Jonny’s shoulder and laughing.

Jonny smirked. “There’s no marks because we didn’t sleep together. Not that it’s any of your business.” 

Duncs came up behind Seabs and they both shook their heads. “All that time I took teaching you how to seal the deal and this is what I hear? Come on,” Duncs said.

“First off, you never did that. Second, I would never have listened to your advice. I’ve seen you try to pick up and it’s absolutely tragic. I don’t know how you ever got married,” Jonny told them. 

Duncs pulled an offended face, but before he could defend himself, Seabs butt in to ask Jonny, “So do you like the tunes? I thought you’d be missing your new boo.” 

Jonny looked at Seabs confused, before he processed what he was saying. Jonny had tuned the music out before he'd walked in but now that he was actually paying attention to it, he realized that it was familiar. It was Patrick’s voice blaring through the speakers, and Jonny groaned. 

“Turn it off and get your ass out on the ice. All of you. We have a game to win tonight.”

And with that, Jonny finished getting changed, put his skates on, and made his way to the rink. 

***

After practice was done, Jonny went back to the locker room and was out the door pretty quick. Most guys wanted to stick to their routines and go on home to take their pregame nap. So, Jonny got away without any more teasing besides Cat asking after Patrick like Jonny was suddenly his keeper. He had just rolled his eyes in response. 

He hadn’t told any of the guys that Patrick and the rest of the band were coming tonight, and he wanted to keep it to himself for as long as possible. He knew that would bring a whole new wave of crazy from the guys and he wanted them focused on the game. 

While he cooked lunch before his pregame nap, he checked his messages to see if Jenny had responded. It was near twelve and he needed to get back to Patrick with the plan. If Jenny couldn’t come through, Jonny could always check resale websites. He could just buy the tickets if he needed to, it’s not like he didn’t have the money. 

Jenny had gotten back to him, and he was in luck. She’d been able to find some on the side of the arena that they scored on in the second period. It wasn’t ideal but was the best he could hope for this last minute. She made sure to include that they were going to be left at the box office under Patrick’s name and that he’d only need an ID to pick them up. Jonny texted her back a thank you for her help before texting Patrick. 

He hadn’t talked to Patrick since last night, obviously, and he was a little nervous. Jonny could recognize that he was being ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. The hard part was over, he knew that Patrick liked him. Not just the version of Jonny he got from the media, but actual real life Jonny. Still, he wanted to play well for Patrick tonight. And getting Patrick tickets so that he could watch Jonny show off for him, made Jonny feel things. This was more than just buying him a pizza. Jonny knew Patrick liked hockey and followed it almost religiously, so it was that much more important to prove to him that he was the best at it. He just wanted to maintain his reputation in Patrick’s eyes. 

Jonny: Hey Patrick, I got those tickets for you and the guys. They’ll be waiting at the box office under your name. 

Jonny sent the message and shook his head. He sounded way too formal and awkward. Before Jonny could worry himself too much over it though, Patrick responded. 

Pop Punk Pat: NO WAY!!!!!!!! OMFG JONNY!!!!!!!! Thank you! Can’t wait to tell the guys

Pop Punk Pat: *Photo of Sharpy smiling with his hands in the shape of a heart, and Crow laughing in the background*

Pop Punk Pat: Sharpy said he can’t wait to see your smiling face again.

Jonny rolled his eyes, way too fond of Patrick’s excited reaction. Jonny had literally done the bare minimal and had made Patrick this happy. He wondered what it’d be like when he really went all out for him. It was something he wanted to find out. 

Jonny: No problem, Pat. Glad I could make it happen. Thought you could come by the room afterwards if you want? 

He reread his text and shook his head. ‘The room’ sounded weird, like Jonny was asking him to his own room afterwards. Not that he was staying at a hotel right now, but it just sounded weird. He didn’t want Patrick to think he expected something in return for the tickets. That would definitely be crossing some lines that Jonny would never cross. 

Jonny: The locker room, I mean. 

Patrick’s reply was instant. 

Pop Punk Pat: OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDD JON

Pop Punk Pat: ARE YOU SERIOUS

Pop Punk Pat: YOU BETTER NOT BE JOKKING

Pop Punk Pat: YES I'D LOVE TO COME TO THE LCOKER ROOM AFER AND MEET ALL THE GUUYS

Jonny laughed at all of Patrick’s excited responses. This was exactly why he offered. He knew the guys wouldn’t mind. Hell, they’d probably have begged to meet Patrick if they knew it was an option. There was no extent to the relationship meddling they would do for Jonny. 

Jonny: Only if you want to. I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.

Pop Punk Pat: *middle finger emoji*

Pop Punk Pat: Yes asshole I’d like to go to the locker room after the game. Meet Seabrook???? I can’t believe this is happening to me.

Jonny: I know what you’re trying to do and I won’t fall for it. 

Pop Punk Pat: *Smirking emoji* *Winking emoji*

Pop Punk Pat: You’re no fun Jonnyyyyy 

Pop Punk Pat: I’ll let you get back to your weird hockey rituals. Can’t wait to see you tonight

Jonny sucked in a breath and reread that last part a few times. He was excited to see Patrick again, no doubt. He wanted to be the reason for the blush brushed across his cheeks, and he was hoping that they’d get to spend a little more time just them tonight. 

But then, something popped into his head, and he texted Patrick back. 

Jonny: Can’t wait to see you in red instead of that horrible blue from yesterday. 

Jonny: Hey do you have Tyler’s number?

Pop Punk Pat: …

Pop Punk Pat: Why do you want Ty’s #

Pop Punk Pat: 214-416-1491

Jonny: Patrick

Jonny: I promised to get him tickets to a game. I figured he was traveling with you so he’d probably be free tonight and want to go to the game too. 

Pop Punk Pat: Oh

Pop Punk Pat: I knew that. Make sure to get two tickets for him. His boyfriend likes hockey too. 

Jonny: Thanks Pat. Gotta take my nap now. See you later. 

Pop Punk Pat: Night night Jon *Crescent moon emoji*

\-----------------------------------------------

Patrick had the jersey laid out on his bunk on the bus and was pacing back and forth in front of it. He didn’t know what the right move was. 

Obviously, he liked Jonny. And obviously, Jonny and the rest of the world knew that. But since Jonny actually knew he existed, and that he was seeing Jonny later that night at Jonny’s own NHL game and his own locker room, he didn’t know if it would be too much to wear his Toews jersey.

Before, when Jonny was unaware of Patrick’s existence, he wouldn’t have questioned wearing it. He literally brought it on tour so he could specifically wear it to the game after the Chicago stop. It was actually a sort of tour ritual for him. He made sure their stop in Chicago lined up with a Hawk’s game the next night, and that their next tour stop wasn’t for a few days. 

But now that Jonny knew who Patrick was, that they had gone on a maybe date, and actually kissed, he felt like wearing the jersey meant something. Like he was Jonny’s or something. 

He didn’t necessarily mind the idea of being Jonny’s. Had fantasized about it a few too many times probably, but he didn’t want to make Jonny uncomfortable. He didn’t want Jonny to think Patrick was being creepy. 

But then again, Jonny knew he was a fan. He made that very clear last night. Plus, tons of people wore Toews jerseys to the Hawks’ games. Probably a good 70% of the jerseys in the United Center were Toews jerseys. And if Patrick just wore his Hawks shirt, didn’t that make him seem kind of like a fraud? Like he made it seem like he was such a huge fan but then didn’t even have a jersey and had probably just picked up a random shirt at the gift shop before the game so he could fit into the crowd. 

Not that dedicated fans had to wear jerseys. You could be a hard core fan and wear whatever you wanted.

Patrick shook his head at himself and groaned. 

“Just put the damn jersey on and let’s go already!” Sharpy yelled from the front of the bus.

Patrick picked up the hem and slipped the jersey on over his head. He shimmed his shoulders a little bit and felt the jersey settle. As Patrick walked to the front of the bus, he felt the weight of Jonny’s last name resting on his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tyler's number is the DAL area code-TOR area code- and then two very familiar sets of numbers. This is in all likelihood someones real number, and not Tyler Seguin's. All this is to say, I wouldn't use it. lmao


	6. Showtime at the UC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hawks are trying to break a five game skid at home. Jonny’s trying to get a win for Patrick. Patrick’s just trying to look good for Jonny. When things don’t go according to plan, the game becomes much more than either of them thought it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Homophobic language is used in this chapter. See end notes! 
> 
> Also, I’m thinking I’ll be able to do one to two updates a week based on my current work schedule. Let’s hope for two! Thank you to everyone who has read this far and thank you for the comments and kudos! They are much appreciated :)
> 
> *Updated rating and tags*

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my GOD. Jon, I can NOT believe you,” DeBrincat was saying as they made their way down the tunnel and into the locker room. The glee in his voice was unmistakable. Jonny wanted to ignore him, but it was no use. Besides, he was still talking.

“The fact that you didn’t tell us he was coming is one thing, and I’ll let that slide for now, but Jon, really?” Cat was shaking his head with a laugh. 

“Don’t even pretend like he isn’t just sitting out there for you. Waiting for you. At the fucking glass. Watching all of us prep for the game. Did you really think we wouldn’t notice?”

Yeah, the team had seen pictures of Patrick on instagram and in the group chat, but only two people on the fucking team knew what he really looked like, and Jonny was hoping against all hope that those two dumb asses would be too focused on themselves to notice. 

“Well-” 

“This is great. No, more than great. Fucking fantastic. Only you would pull this shit. Meet some dude and the next day you're bringing him round to show off.” Cat shook his head in disbelief, his smile completely consuming his face. “Unbelievable.” 

“He was already going to come. I just upgraded his tickets. It’s what anyone would do.”

“Oh yes, Jon, so selfless as always. Just doing what anyone would.”

“Can someone explain what’s going on, because I’m having a really hard time following,” Nylander asked. 

Jonny could see the amusement laced in Brent’s eyes, as he wrapped his arm around Jonny’s shoulders and said, “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Jonny here brought out his new boyfriend and friends to the game tonight.”

Exasperated Jonny said, “He’s not my boyfriend, we’re just-”

“Details, Jon. Who really has time for them?” Brent said, walking away with a smirk. 

And okay, maybe it had been obvious. He hadn’t really been hiding his excitement when he saw Patrick. It's just, he had forgotten where they were going to be sitting. So when Jonny stepped out onto the ice and instantly saw Patrick and the band behind the glass, waiting for him and the rest of the team to come out for warm ups, he was happily caught off guard and didn’t see the need to hide his smile. 

Patrick was already looking red and breathless when Jonny skated up to them. He was on the end of the row, with the rest of the band fanning out to Jonny’s left. Jonny’s eyes didn’t linger on them for long before focusing back on Patrick. Patrick was giving him such a sweet shy smile, and Jonny just knew he was sporting some goofy lovesick grin in return. 

Jonny hit the glass in front of him with one gloved fist, in way of hello, and Patrick smacked his open palm against the glass in response. Sharpy, directly beside Patrick, watched their interaction in delight, his cell phone up and probably catching everything. 

Jonny didn’t notice it until Patrick’s arm was raised to smack the glass. But, once he did, he couldn’t stop. He stilled, just for a second, as his eyes zeroed in on Patrick’s jersey.

He felt like he was going to pop one right there, on the ice, in front of everyone. 

Because 

Patrick was wearing a jersey. 

A number 19 jersey.

Which meant, 

Patrick was wearing _his_ jersey. 

His mouth was suddenly dry, and he was desperate to see the back of Patrick’s jersey. Of _his_ jersey. Because Patrick was wearing his jersey. 

Patrick seemed to have caught on, because he shrugged at Jonny in a sly sort of way that seemed to say, “I couldn't help myself.”

Little shit. Jonny couldn’t help the thoughts racing through his head, or, primarily, the blood rushing to his dick right then. 

He must have been frozen for just a beat too long because Patrick's head was starting to tilt, and a smirk was rising up one side of his gorgeous face. Jonny took stock and shook himself, internally willing himself to calm the fuck down, and hit his gloved fist against the glass one more time in goodbye. 

Yeah, now that he thinks about it, he was really fucking obvious. He didn’t really care though. Patrick was at the game, Jonny had got what he wanted, and if the boys had something to say about it, well then, they could just say it. Jonny was going to focus on winning for Patrick, not Alex’s, and the rest of the teams, incessant need to gossip about the state of Jonny’s love life. 

Colliton came in eventually, turning down Patrick’s voice (yes, that was still a thing that they were doing) and started going in on his usual pregame pep speech. It took everything in Jonny not to roll his eyes. He locked eyes with Brent across the room, and they shared a knowing look. 

As the captain, it’s one of Jonny’s responsibilities to make sure the team listens to and respects the coach. Jonny has found though, that that is especially hard when Jonny doesn’t even want to do that. It’s not that Colliton’s done anything wrong exactly, it’s just. Well, he hasn’t done anything right either. Jonny is the captain, and when Q left, he basically became the de facto coach too. The team is used to looking Jonny’s way for guidance, and let’s just say not too many have turned Colliton’s way as of yet. 

Jonny knows how threatened Jeremy is of him, can feel it whenever they're in the same room, which is why, Jonny guesses, he tries to pull those personal power plays over him. Like when Colliton left him stranded at a hotel because he was one minute late for the bus, waiting on the hotel elevator that wouldn’t hurry the fuck up. It was passed off as a joke, but Jonny knew better.

But Jonny has better things to focus on than the new coach, things like saving their dumpster fire season, so he doesn’t waste time on working things out with Colliton. Jonny just makes sure that when coach is speaking, everyone knows Jonny’s listening, even if he isn’t really. 

After Jeremy’s little speech had ended and he left, they all made their way out to the tunnel. Ritualistic handshakes and shoulder bumps were colliding all around him, and before they could make their way down to the ice Jonny stopped them. 

“Alright boys, listen up a sec, would ya?” he said, trying to get them to quiet down.

It seemed a little weird, giving a pregame speech, though Jonny was known for giving one here and there. It was usually reserved for important games though, playoff clinching or Stanley Cup clinching ones, not just a weekday home game. But tonight, they needed a win. Tonight was important. So tonight, they were getting a speech. 

“Shut the fuck up already and listen,” Jonny said, hitting his hand against the wall. Instantly heads were turning and then all eyes were on his. 

“Tonight, we need this win. I don’t care how we get it. Well, I do care. I don’t want to see sloppy or lazy penalties, and for god’s sake, do not hook Connor McDavid when he’s on a breakaway. But it doesn’t have to be pretty, it can be dirty, it can be ugly, I don’t care one bit. But we got to win tonight. We have to beat the Oilers. We cannot drop six straight at home. I know a lot of you are used to a sold out UC but I remember when that wasn’t the standard. We had to fight for them to come. And now we need to fight for them to stay. We need to win for our home crowd and show them that we really do want to be here. That we are worth our paychecks. That our names are worth enough to be printed on their backs. I don’t want to hear any talk of tanking or this summer's draft tonight. I especially don't want to hear our crowd booing us in our own barn. I just want to hear Chelsea Dagger playing all night long, that goal horn ringing in my ears. I want the crowd to be tired of standing because that’s all they’ll be doing with all the scoring going on. So, go out there and win. We are more than capable.” Jonny paused before finishing off with, “Plus, I need your help getting Duncs here to pay for my post game plans, so make me look good tonight, won’t ya?” 

Stromer whopped, and the rest of the guys joined in. After last second stick taps, Alex called, as they made their way down the tunnel, “For Patrick, baby!” 

The thing is Jonny loves to win. I mean, who doesn’t? Everyone wants to win. But Jonny loves it. He needs it. He craves it like a drowning man craves air. So, Jonny is thankful that he’s really fucking good at his job, and that he’s really fucking good at winning. He really doesn’t love that the last two seasons don’t reflect that, but he knows, deep down, what he’s capable of. 

So, Jonny wants to go out there and win. Not just win though, not just barely beat the Oilers. He wants to go out there and blow them the fuck out. He wants to score a hat trick in the first period. Maybe even get four and cite Joe Thorton on his choice of celebration. He wants to be unstoppable. 

Instead he gets this. 

A “Saw your insta post, Tazer. Get your dick wet last night?” whispered in his ear as he’s being shoved into the corner boards. 

And then, “Cocksucker. Is that why your lips are always so red, baby?” Sneered at him as he pushed off the face off dot. 

“Knees weak from being on ‘em all night?” said after a stick to the back of his knees caused him to trip.

Jonny isn’t able to see the back of the Oilers’ jersey, but he recognizes the unfamiliar voice as the same one making all the comments. 

He’s furious, and he knows that everyone else knows this. He can sense it as he skates by the Oilers’ bench and jumps back onto his. His guys, their guys, probably the refs, the coaches, and everyone in the stands too. He’s furious and he’s playing like shit. 

That just eggs him on more. 

“Do you think you’ll come round after the game and show us a little appreciation? Give us what we’re owed,” the unfamiliar Oiler says. They’re in the middle of a pile up in the corner, trying to knock the puck free. Jonny finally gets a good look at the guy's face, and it’s a guy Jonny truly doesn’t recognize, which doesn’t say much since the Oilers are rebuilding. Half the team Jonny doesn’t recognize. Jonny tries to skate away, to follow the puck that’s finally been freed, and leave him behind. But this guy’s more concerned with Jonny than the puck and keeps him trapped in the corner. 

“People might question it when they see you coming out of the visitors’ locker room, but deep down they’d already know. Like everyone has always known. Can’t keep your hands to yourself. Eyes always looking at things they can’t have. Well, we’ll let you have what you want this one time, sweetheart.” 

Jonny sees red, and accidentally (on purpose) high sticks him right in the mouth. Instantly, Jonny can hear the whistle being blown. He sees the blood starting to collect and drip from the corner of the Oilers’ smirking mouth. Jonny watches as he takes off his glove, smears the blood from his mouth onto the tips of his fingers and turns to show it to the ref. Four bloody fingers. 

When he turns, that’s when Jonny finally sees it. ‘Manning’ written in dark blue block letters along his back. A huge twenty six staring back at him. 

Jonny shakes his head as he makes his way to the penalty box, fury filling every inch of his body. He can’t let these comments get to him. He can’t. If they get to him, then Manning wins. 

Jonny gets to the box and slams the door behind him, sitting down with a huff. There’s nothing Manning can say that Jonny hasn’t heard before. He’s heard it all. Nothing new can be said to him. Jonny just hasn’t heard it in such a long time. Stupidly, he had thought this was something of the past. Manning’s unabashed hatred surprised Jonny, but he won’t be surprised again. 

He just needs to ignore Manning, not let him get in his head. Not let him win. 

Jonny watches Seabs skate over then, to the box, toward him, and Jonny quickly tries to readjust his face into something slightly more calm. 

“What was that, cap?” Seabs asks, genuine worry in his voice. Brent knows Jonny would never usually pull a stunt like that.

Jonny doesn’t want to give Manning’s words power. He doesn’t want to be controlled by them, and he sure as hell doesn’t want Brent to know that a few comments could send him spiraling so easily. 

“Nothing, just lost my cool for a sec.”

Brent just stares at him, head tilting, searching Jonny’s face for the truth. Jonny can tell that he doesn’t believe him, and Brent looks like he’s about to say something about it, but at the last minute he stops himself. Instead, he says something else.

“We got this, Jonny. Don’t worry.” 

Jonny has faith in their PK, but he also knows where their penalty kill is ranked amongst the league and the Oilers’ power play rank. There’s no contest. The odds weren’t good for a minor penalty, much less a double minor. 

But Jonny sits in the box, desperately hoping to sit for a full four. He makes it a little past three minutes, the guys really trying, but ultimately, they weren’t able to hold them off. It isn’t their fault though. It’s Jonny’s. 

Connor got them on the board. One to zero, Hawks down with three minutes left in the first. 

Jonny gets out of the box, and skates over to the bench with his jaw set and determination in his eyes. He never should have been so reckless, but he knows better now. He won’t let Manning get to him. 

The first ends without another incident, and thankfully the Oilers’ duo isn’t able to score again. Jonny spends the first intermission clearing his head, trying to get a grip on himself. He brushes off the comments of concern from the team and focuses on preparing for the second period. He doesn’t bother to tell anyone what Manning was saying. It’s not their fight.

Jonny inhales. He exhales. He does it a few more times. It’s only one goal he tells himself. They aren’t out of this yet. 

Before they go down the tunnel for the second period, Jonny apologizes to the guys. He doesn’t want to cost them the game. He doesn’t want to let them down. He knows he’s the reason for the current score, and the best thing he can do is try to change it. 

The second period starts off better than the first. Jonny is determined, and the rest of the team feeds off his energy. The first five minutes they’re dominating every puck battle, spending all their time in the Oilers’ zone, and ripping shot after shot. Nothing goes in, but it will. With that many high quality chances they always do. 

Jonny can still feel Manning on him. He’s like a shadow, following him stride for stride. Jonny can also hear the comments flying at him from behind, a lot of them too muffled to be understood -one definitely about how Jonny probably takes cock real well- but his comments are weak at best, and Jonny ignores him. 

All that work quickly pays off. With all that time in the Oilers’ zone, one of their fresh faced forwards makes a mistake, and the Hawks get rewarded with a power play. It only takes them twenty eight seconds to capitalize on it and even the score. Cat’s goal with an assist from Jonny and Seabrook. 

It’s now one to one with about thirteen minutes left in the period. 

After the goal, Jonny can tell that something’s changed in Manning. If anything, he becomes more vicious. He’s constantly on the back of Jonny’s heels, slashing the back of his legs any chance he gets, hooking him for all he’s worth, and never backing down from the opportunity to send Jonny straight into the boards. Jonny’s fury comes back full force. The refs never call any of it. And that fucking pisses Jonny off. Manning’s a dirty player, the worst kind, and one that wouldn’t last five minutes in Jonny’s locker room. Jonny would allow a dirty win but not _this_. 

So, when Manning slashes him on the back of his legs particularly hard, and then whacks his stick against Jonny’s ass and says, “I bet you're sore huh? You already have a stick up your ass all the time, I bet fitting a dick in there too took some work.” That’s it. He’s had it. 

He throws his gloves down, rips Manning’s helmet off, and punches him square in the nose before Manning has time to even realize he’s about to get hit. 

Jonny can see the moment play stops on the ice, the moment the refs start skating in earnest toward them, but Jonny doesn’t care. 

The crowd around him has faded. He can’t hear them anymore, or the players on the benches, or anyone on the ice. The only thing he hears is the blood pumping in his ears. He sets his shoulders, pulls his elbow back, and punches Manning again, blood already starting to flow from his nose. 

It took two hits, but Manning’s finally realized that he’s in the middle of a fight. Jonny figured he’d take the coward’s way out and skate away, but he doesn’t. Instead, he cracks his neck, shakes off his gloves, and squares up. He laughs then, causing blood to spurt out into the open air between them. 

“Didn’t think people like you had it in ‘em,” he says, and then punches Jonny’s helmet off. 

Jonny’s knocked off his skates for a second but doesn’t lose his balance. He’s always been shit at fighting, but he’s never been one to back down from a fight. He’s not going to start today. 

They circle each other for a second, sizing each other up, before Jonny dives in again. This time he grabs the front of Manning’s jersey, stabilizing him, and then lets himself go. 

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck. YOU.” 

Jonny delivers blow after blow after blow. He can feel the bones and teeth rearranging below his fingers, can feel Manning’s flesh splitting open and blood starting to coat his fist.

He doesn’t stop.

He feels Manning shaking with laughter underneath his fists, can see his blood soaked smile. It only makes Jonny want to punch him harder. So, he does. 

He doesn’t stop.

Not until someone from behind him grabs his arms. He tries to shake out of their hold, but he can’t. They’ve pushed his arms straight up to the sky rendering them useless. He’s tensing up, getting ready to shake free when he hears Brent’s voice break through the pulsing in his ears. 

“Shhhhh, Jonny, stop. Jon, you’re okay, just stop now. You won, it’s over.”

Jonny knows he needs to stop, but he can’t. Not even when he sees Oilers’ players dragging Manning away from him. Not even when Duncs joins him and helps Seabrook drag him back to their bench. 

They’ve got him caged in now. His back to the bench, Seabs, Duncs, Murphy, even Maatta in a semi circle around him, trapping him in. 

“Let. Go. Of. Me.”

Seabs finally releases the death grip he has on his arms, but once he has them back, he’s still not in control. His arms won’t stop shaking. His fingers are twitching, itching to finish what he started. He’s so keyed up he can barely understand what’s going on. He hears the guys talking to him, but it’s like it’s being sped up or slowed down, he can’t quite decipher which, but he can’t understand them at all. He sees the confused looks they share, sees fear start to creep into their faces, but he can’t find the words to sooth them. He looks beyond them, to find Manning, and he sees him being shoved down the tunnel, laughing with blood dripping down his face and onto his jersey. Almost the entire bench is trying to push him back, away from the ice, as far away from Jonny as possible. Everyone but his captain. Instead, McDavid is skating in close circles, hovering by the Hawk’s bench to check on him. 

“Jon, come back to us now.” 

And like that, he can hear again. The roar of the crowd is so loud he can’t comprehend how he didn’t hear it before. They’re chanting his name over and over and over again. 

“Jon, what the fuck? What did he say to you?” Keith is asking him, probably not for the first time. 

“How long?” Jonny asks. 

“How long?” Brent repeats in confused amazement. 

“What’s the penalty? How many minutes? We gotta get back out there and win this.”

“Jon, slow down. We need to know what happened. What did he say to you?”

Jonny looks down, staring hard at the bruises already starting to dot his knuckles. 

“It’s not important.”

“But-”

“Listen to me. I got in a fight. That happens in hockey games. Now can you go ask the refs what’s up because I doubt they’ll talk to me right now.” 

Brent just looks at him hard, unblinking eye contact drilling into him, telling him that this won’t be the end of their discussion. He shakes his head and goes to find the refs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Homophobic Language  
> A player, Brandon Manning, on the opposing team, the Edmonton Oilers, makes homophobic statements and uses homophobic slurs when talking to Jonny. Please take caution before proceeding.
> 
> The reason I made Brandon Manning the homophobic player is not because I have insight on his personal beliefs. He was simply selected because he once broke Connor McDavid’s collarbone, and now plays with the Oilers.
> 
> Omg don’t kill me for this kind of cliff hanger update. Spoiler alert but Jonny will be fine. Pat might be worried, but he’s also kinda (very) turned on by a hot and bothered Jonny. I was originally going to combine chapter 6 and 7 but this chapter became much longer than anticipated. Good news is that chapter seven probably won’t be that far off.


	7. Rule 56: Fisticuffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second half of the Hawks v Oilers game. Jonny comes to terms with what he has to do. The team learns the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Jonny in this chapter and not so much Pat. Don't fret, chapter 8 is basically 98% Jonny and Patrick together.  
> Also, the fact that Manning was on the Blackhawks and I have no memory of that (oops) is a little too hilarious. Let’s just pretend he wasn’t for those 27 games (in the 2018-19 season) for my own sake ...

The Oilers were going on the power play. 

Jonny was getting seventeen minutes and Manning was getting fifteen. Jonny couldn’t believe it. 

Fucking _instigating._

Like Jonny was the one who instigated the fight. Like Manning hadn’t been taunting him the entire game, trying to push Jonny to his limit and make him snap. 

Granted, he didn’t think anyone knew this, because he hadn’t told anyone, and Manning sure as hell hadn’t, but fuck. Instigating. 

The Blackhawks were short-handed because of Jonny. Again. 

Jonny should have known it was bad when Seabs was shaking his head, trailing after McDavid and the refs on their way to deliver their decision to the two benches. 

The ref had straight up ignored Jonny, who was still in his makeshift defensemen prison, on his way to tell Coach the penalties. A five minute major for fighting, plus the ten minute misconduct, and two fucking minutes for instigating. 

Jonny couldn’t stop the bitter laughter that escaped his lips. They thought _he_ was the instigator. He broke out of his hold, brushing past Olli, and strode straight over to the ref. 

“This call is fucking horse shit! You have no idea what’s happening out there, do you? Fucking targeting me the whole game, and I’m the instigator? You think _I_ started it? You’re a fucking moron.” 

“Tell me what really happened out there if I’m so clueless, Toews.” 

Jonny just shook his head, anger thrumming right under the surface of his skin. “I shouldn’t have to do your job for you. Now you’re preventing me from doing mine. You’re a fucking joke.”

“You dropped your gloves first. You hit him twice before he even knew what was happening. What do you think ‘instigator’ means? We could use video of what just happened out there as the definition.” 

“Watch the fucking game!” Jonny exclaimed, getting right into the ref’s face. “If you maybe did your job for a fucking second you might have noticed Manning racking up penalty minutes all night undetected and uncalled because you were too busy looking the other way. I shouldn’t be penalized for defending myself!” 

Jonny, a mere six inches away, could see past the annoyance clouding the ref’s features, and see the sympathy and understanding starting to rise to the surface. The ref was probably recalling the diversity and equal opportunity training he and all the other refs had to go through before their first game, training that Jonny himself had once had a hand in designing, in case this kind of situation ever arose. 

So maybe now the ref was starting to guess what had really happened, but Jonny couldn’t voice it. Not yet. Not when he felt two seconds away from going down the wrong tunnel and into the visitor locker room to finish what Manning had started. 

“I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me.”

Jonny paused, just for a second, because for the first time all night he was being understood without having to voice it. That finally made Jonny’s anger start to subside, as resignation began to reign. He knew he could say something, should say something, but still something stopped him. 

Jonny just shook his head again. 

“Then you need to calm down or you’re going to be out the rest of the game.” 

“A game misconduct? Really?” Jonny huffed out a breath, pulled away, and started making his way to the penalty box. “Un-fucking-believable.” 

Before Jonny could even make it halfway to the box though, he was suddenly being yanked backwards. Someone was pulling on the back of his jersey, dragging his ass past the bench, and down the tunnel. 

Two someones actually. 

Strome and DeBrincat. 

“What the fuck?” Jonny said, but all the fight had finally left him, and his protest was weak. He let himself be dragged, the exhaustion of the last ten minutes finally hitting him as he slumped against Dylan’s shoulder. 

“You need to get checked out. You have blood all over your hands -not that I think any of that actually belongs to you- but you can’t just go sit in the box like that. I don’t even know if your head’s on straight, Jon. You just beat the shit out of that random fourth liner, the same guy you high sticked earlier. I know he’s been on you all night but did something more happen? You can trust us, Jonny. Just tell us what happened,” DeBrincat told him, worry evident in his voice. 

Before Jonny could confess to Alex or start dodging all of his concern and start offering up weak half truths, Dylan interrupted him. 

“Dude, wooooooooow,” Dylan said. He dragged out the vowels, and the rumbling of his chest caused Jonny’s skin to vibrate where he was leaning against him. 

“You just beat the shit out of that guy. I’ve never seen you go at it like that. It was pretty impressive, not gonna lie,” Dylan told him with an amazed laugh. 

A second later, Dylan yelped, probably from the elbow Cat had just dug into his side, as he told him in a stern voice, “Not now.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. 

“I can take it from here,” one of the trainers said just ahead of them. Jonny exchanged hands, now in the custody of the trainers, who were already trying to get him to lay back so they could start evaluating the damage. 

DeBrincat hovered at the door of the trainers’ office, giving Jonny one last look. “Jon, just,” he hesitated for a second, “Just let them take care of you.” 

Jonny huffed out an annoyed breath but was simultaneously touched by Alex’s obvious concern. “Get your ass back out there and kill that penalty, and I’ll be out there for the third.” 

“Aye aye Captain,” Dylan told him with a salute, and then they were gone. 

One of the trainers stripped Jonny’s blood stained jersey off, and then pushed him firmly back against the examination chair. Their hands began to roam over his body, checking for injuries while simultaneously trying to still his tremors from the adrenaline steadily leaking out of his limbs. 

Jonny just closed his eyes and let them work. He tried to slow his breathing, as he was sucking in air like he was at the tail end of playing an entire power play. As he felt wet rags cleaning his bloody knuckles gently but efficiently, he tried to clear his head to figure out what the hell just happened. 

It had been years since Jonny’s last fight and years since he’d had an incident of this kind. He never let his anger get the best of him -not anymore- not in a really long time. Jonny knew better than that, as a captain, as a leader in the NHL, and as an advocate for the LGBTQ+ community. He never wanted his actions to reflect badly back on his team or the communities he belonged to. So why had he let Manning get the better of him twice? 

Jonny knew it was partly from shock. Jonny wasn’t oblivious, or living in some celebrity bubble outside the real world, he knew there were people filled with hatred out there, hatred unfounded but hatred nonetheless, but he hadn’t felt it directed at him on the ice in a long time. Especially not at the UC. This ice was his and it was a sacred safe place for him. And here was Manning trying to take that all away from him, make him feel like he couldn’t be safe anywhere. Jonny had to defend that. How could he not? He had to protect what was his, or he’d have nothing. 

He had to fight for his own safety in his own home. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right, but it was his reality. 

As he laid there, the bruise of his left eye starting to purple as fingers probed it under a too bright light, he felt the weight of responsibility crash down on him. 

For some reason, there was this idea that Jonny had radicalized the younger generation of hockey players into being gay. It was an absolutely ridiculous notion, but people believed it. He knew people did because he saw articles upon articles printed and posted about it. He was even asked about it once, after a random practice, but that reporter was escorted out of the room, press pass revoked, before Jonny could even mutter a word. 

Jonny could sort of understand it. If he didn’t think it through at all and looked at it sideways. It made sense that people thought he had something to do with it, because, in a way, he had. Since the moment he came out, Jonny’d been the poster boy for inclusivity when the league was barely that. He’d dealt with all the pains that came with being the first. Changed the rules and set new standards. And as Jonny skated his way to three Stanley Cups and proudly embraced who he was, a whole generation watched and realized that it was okay to be themselves and play hockey. He had proved that you could play at the highest level, achieve the greatest of achievements, and not have to choose between your love of hockey and who you truly were. 

Jonny was the only out NHL player for seven years. Seven long, grueling, and sometimes lonely years. Then the 2015 draft happened, and everything changed. 

There was a running joke that the 2015 draft marked the NHL’s “gay awakening” with three of the top four picks being gay (McDavid, Strome) or bi (Marner). Seven of the first round drafted belonged to the LGBTQ+ community, with Boeser (gay), Konecny (bi), Tito (gay), and Barzel (questionable) rounding it out. It was history in the making, even if the league didn't know they were making it at the time. 

At that time, Mitch Marner was the only one out. If Jonny recalled correctly, he’d never not been out. It was something that he embraced, something that he couldn’t and didn’t want to hide away. After Marner had been picked fourth overall, he had been giddy with it, hugging friends and family and even his new GM and coach. Jonny can still remember the look on Babcock’s face foundly. After, when the reporters were chasing Marner around, and he was being filmed making his first phone call, Jonny had felt his phone vibrating. Marner’s first call wasn’t to his grandmother, or one of his former Knights teammates, but to Jonny. Jonny had answered the unfamiliar number, watching and hearing the echo off the tv of Mitch proudly telling him he’d been picked fourth overall. Then Mitch had told him, on camera, in front of everyone, that he wouldn’t have been here without Jonny paving the way. It’s a moment he’d never forget. 

It also started a new tradition. Any out player drafted in the first round, or any round really, would call Jonny and thank him for helping him get there. Not because they knew each other, or because Jonny had necessarily done anything for him personally, but because Jonny simply existing as he was had changed the course of their life for the better. Tyson Jost in 2016. Nolan Patrick in 2017. By 2018 Jonny knew to expect a call. 

Sometimes they didn’t do it publicly. Jonny had made it known, announced it publicly multiple times, and spread word through the NHLPA and through the most popular agents, that if any hockey player currently playing in or about to be playing in the NHL needed guidance, or just someone to talk to, that they could contact him at any time if they so wished. Jonny had made it clear that anything they told him would be strictly confidential, that he would never reveal someone else's sexuality. That’s how Marner had gotten his number and was able to call him on his draft day. It was also the reason DeBrincat had first contacted him.

DeBrincat had contacted him right after he was drafted. Before Jonny could even send a ‘Welcome to the team’ text, he had gotten a simple message that had said, “I’m gay. I’m out, but I won’t ever address it publicly. Thought you should know.” And then a quick follow up text that said, “It’s Alex DeBrincat btw” right after that. Jonny had heard the rumors already, like Cat had said, he hadn’t been hiding it, but Jonny was glad that he had felt comfortable enough to confide in him. 

Jonny’s policy is also how he had found out about the rest of the 2015 draft class. Jonny had made it clear that in no way should anyone feel pressured to come out to him, but most players did, if not to feel just a little less alone with their secret. Players that were in the closet, players out to only a select few, and players out to everyone, they all sought Jonny out. 

Dylan, third in the 2015 draft, was like Alex, out but not open to discussing it. Strome had been bouncing between the NHL and the AHL for Arizona, which may have led him to believe he couldn’t contact Jonny, though Jonny was always sure his call would come. It wasn’t until he was steadily playing in the NHL, a few years after his draft, that he’d called Jonny. (Jonny suspected that DeBrincat had finally convinced Dylan that it would be okay to.) In late October of 2018, Jonny had gotten a phone call a little after three in the morning from a crying, not quite sober Dylan, telling him that he was going to quit hockey all together and be a stay at home husband. Jonny had had no idea who it was, other than someone with a total disregard to how time zones worked, but it didn’t really matter. Jonny had stayed on the phone with him until the sun had started to rise and had helped brainstorm what the pros and cons were of staying home or playing hockey. Once Jonny had hinted that it might be a nice idea to learn how to cook, Dylan had said, “That’s sexist, Toews. But cooking is a deal breaker. I burn pasta, I can’t possibly do this stay at home thing.” Then he’d hung up and they never talked about it again. 

Most of the time it wasn’t anything dramatic. Nothing involving cameras or late night calls. Sometimes it was like discussing the weather, not like revealing the deepest part of you. After a game in Vancouver, Boeser had stopped Jonny before he had gotten back on the bus and let him know. In Chicago a season or two back, during a game against the Flyers, Travis Konecny had skated up right behind him, after a whistle had blown to signal a stoppage in play, and simlpy asked him if he knew of any gay bars in town, becasue “girls are nice, but I really need to get dicked down tonight.” Anthony Beauvillier had invited him out to drinks in New York, after an uneventful game in their awful arena, and they’d talked about the woes of coming out in the NHL. (He’d also hinted that a close teammate of his was in the same situation, which Jonny hadn’t pressed.) Jonny had given him some advice, and the next month he’d gotten the push notification about Tito’s announcement. 

Connor had never said anything to him, or anyone. The pressure of being the number one pick, of being a young captain, and becoming the next great one prevented him from saying anything. But sometimes Jonny would notice him hovering or catch his eyes and understand the meaning behind his stare. Jonny had never said anything explicit, had just once told Connor they could grab drinks any time he wanted, but Connor had never taken him up on his offer. He only saw the fan theories tweeted out about Connor and Leon, with all the video clips and pictures of “evidence”. Had caught the interview of McDavid in the wrong number sweatshirt. It didn’t necessarily _mean_ anything. But Jonny still thought, maybe someday. Jonny was starting to think someday wouldn’t be soon if Connor had players like Manning in his locker room, and he felt he could do nothing about it. 

It wasn’t just the new players that had started coming out though. Tyson Barrie had hidden his sexuality for years because he was straight passing. Since he was bi, he had been able to point to past girlfriends and prove his straightness. But when Tyson Jr (as Barrie lovingly called him) and Compher had announced their relationship to the Avs’ locker room, he had felt that maybe it was the right time. He had come out to his team, and then the rest of the players through casual conversations here and there. The league kept his secret. It wasn’t until he had accidentally let it slip on a live Leaf to Leaf with his new teammate, Marner, that the world found out. “Before we get started I just gotta say how ridiculous it is that they stuck us together for this thing. We’re both bi, we get it, doesn’t mean we gotta be together 24/7. I’m honestly getting tired of seeing your face all the time, ya know?” He’d jokingly told Mitch, and Mitch had laughed his ass off, neither of them realizing what had just happened. Tyson might have thought the world was going to end after that, but in actuality the only thing that had happened was Dubas retweeted a video of the interview with a pink, purple, and blue heart emoji.

As Jonny was slowly being cleaned up and put back together, he felt with more clarity what he had to do. 

He thought about how much his actions had affected other people, and still affected them. He knew he had to say something. Thinking about all the players who had come out because they had deemed Jonny brave for his actions, and all the players that had yet to come out, made his decision clear. He had to stand up for himself and let the truth of what happened be known.

Jonny thought about Cat and Stromer, who were out, but also refused to acknowledge their relationship publicly, or even their sexual orientation. Jonny didn’t blame them. He remembered the all too recent media stir that had occurred when Dylan had been traded to Chicago. Remembered hearing the rumors fly about how Cat had supposedly given the front office an ultimatum of his boyfriend coming to play for the Hawks, or he was leaving. Of course, he had never done that. In actuality, Dylan was a good player, so the Hawks had wanted him on their team, his relationship with Alex nonconsequential. 

Jonny understood why they wanted to be defined by their play rather than their sexuality. That was something he had struggled with for years. And he’d never force them to come out. He knew that was a personal decision that only they could decide on their own time. But Jonny wanted to keep making the right decisions, and he wanted to make decisions that would make them think that maybe they could acknowledge their relationship publicly, someday, if they ever wanted to. That one day, when pride month and all the “hockey is for everyone” stuff came around, they wouldn’t automatically shake their heads no. 

Jonny prided himself on standing up for those who weren’t able to stand up for themselves. In helping to give a voice to the voiceless, while he strived to make the communities around him, Chicago, Winnipeg, and the NHL, a better place for _all_ of its members. 

So why wasn’t he standing up for himself? Why was he struggling to come forward?

Manning had left him feeling embarrassed after humiliating him for half the night. 

He didn’t want to cause a scene. 

But most pressing, he knew how much work it took coming forward, and he was so fucking tired of it all. There was always backlash, and people doubting his claims. There were always those claiming he was making it up because he wanted attention. Then there were those who believed he got special treatment for being gay (seriously), and they always came out of the woodwork during these kinds of situations.

Sometimes he wondered if it was even worth it at all to come forward. That maybe it was better to let sleeping dogs lie, when he was already so tired, and ahead of him would just be so much more work.

But all that work was worth it when he thought about all the damage that could happen if he said nothing. When he thought about all the people who relied on him. If he didn’t say anything, Mitch, or TK, or Barrie could be next. And Jonny couldn’t live with himself knowing he could have prevented that. 

How could he not stand up for himself? 

He’d worked tirelessly for years so he could speak up without fear. Hell, he’d helped put these rules in place, advocated for his own rights to the NHL and NHLPA, and pleaded with the NHL Department of Player Safety to implement stricter punishments for players or team personnel who used homophobic language and taunts. He did all this work, so he didn’t have to take things into his own hands. The least he could do now was tell the truth and let these things work themselves out, knowing that he did the best he could. 

To not stand up for himself was one thing, but to fail to stand up for others was something he just couldn't do. Jonny wasn’t going to back down from the fight now. 

So, when the boys came crashing into the locker room for the second intermission, Jonny was already in his stall waiting for them. The trainers had already cleared him, having spent the last nine minutes of the period meticulously checking over his body, and deeming him fit to play for the third. He was fine, besides the obvious scrapes and bruises. Unlike Manning, he hadn’t lost any blood. 

He knew the guys were worried about him. He watched as a few of them tensed just the slightest bit when they spotted him, and suddenly gave him a wide berth, like he was some kind of unpredictable animal. A lot of them, he knew, just didn’t want their heads’ bitten off, and knew better than to stop and try to talk to him when he was in a mood. Most of the guys though were shooting him not so discreet concerned and worrying looks, but then quickly turning their face to avoid catching his eye. They all knew he wanted space, and they respected him enough to give it to him.

Seabs did none of that. He was never one to avoid a problem but was always the one leading the charge to address it. Sometimes it meant he acted without thinking, but most of the time it ended well because he always had good intentions. He didn’t give Jonny space or glance worriedly at him. Instead, he marched right toward him. 

“I’m tired of this ‘it was just a fight’ bull shit. Tell me what really happened, now. No more lies.” 

Before Jonny could say anything, Seabs added, “I know I shouldn’t be on your case and should let you do things on your own time, but fuck that. You know I’ve never been good at doing only what I should. I know something fucked up must have happened for you to go at him like that. I know you too well Jon, for you to tell me differently. Something happened and I need to know what.” Brent stared him down, looking like he was prepared to force the words out of him. 

“Well if you would shut up for a second and let me talk, I might actually be able to tell you,” Jonny told him good naturedly. 

“Why don’t you go get Duncs and meet me in the hall. I’m gonna go get Colliton,” Jonny said. He watched as Brent’s shoulders fell just a tad bit, relaxing a fraction after realizing Jonny wasn’t about to argue with him. He nodded at Jonny, and then made his way over to Duncs. 

Finding Colliton wasn’t hard. As Jonny was making his way out of the locker room, he was coming in. 

“Oh,Toews, I was just coming your way. Care to explain what happened out there in the second?” He seemed a little annoyed, but mostly just concerned. Jonny was sure all of the guys’ reactions had swayed him this way. He appreciated that. 

“Actually yeah, I would. I was literally on my way to find you when you walked in.” He paused and shrugged his shoulders. “I just told Seabrook to get Keith. I wanted to talk with you about what just went down.” 

Jonny and Colliton stepped out into the hallway, and seconds later the two defensemen joined them. 

“Care to explain what that shit show was about, Jon?” Duncs asked the second they were all together. He was pissed, at what, Jonny wasn’t sure, but he could hear it in every word he said.

So, Jonny told them. All of it. Everything Manning had said in the first, and how that had prompted his high sticking penalty. How he hadn’t wanted to say anything to any of them because he thought he could get the situation, and himself, under control. How the second had been going better before Manning had escalated his behavior after Jonny had started ignoring him. How finally, Jonny had snapped. 

They all listened intently, and as he spoke, Jonny watched all of their faces twist into ugly emotions of anger, and disgust. He heard Brent mummering curses under his breath and saw Keith adjusting his gloves, like he himself was about to find Manning and give him a round two. When Jonny had finished, Colliton was the first one to say something. 

“Did you write this down?” He asked Jonny. “I need you to write down everything he said to you for me. I’m gonna go find the officials.” Colliton turned on his heels and wandered off a few feet before he turned back to Jonny. He placed a steady, somewhat comforting hand on his shoulder and told him, “I’m sorry, Jon. You did the best you could in a bad situation. Anyone in your position would have done the same. I’m sorry this happened to you, but I’m glad you told us. Now let me try to help you.” 

Seabs just shook his head as Colliton walked away. He didn’t have to be clear headed or have a perfectly crafted response. That wasn’t his responsibility. He could afford the anger Jonny could see him seething with. 

“I don’t care about the rules or penalties, especially not instigating penalties. Fuck that. Fuck it all. You did the right thing, Jon. You stood up for yourself the best way you knew how.” Seabs suddenly started to pace, but then stopped as quickly as he had started. “Fuck, I still think the best thing would be for us to go find this fucker and beat the shit out of him again.” 

Jonny laughed, “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It might not be a good idea, but it would make me feel a lot better,” Keith told him, sincerely. He knew that Duncs just wanted to show his support for Jonny in any way necessary. And unlike Seabs, he was trying to rein his anger in, trying to be an understanding calm next to the unstoppable storm that was Brent. 

“It'd make me feel like I actually did something for you instead of just watching it go down on the sidelines. How am I any better than him when I let it go down without a word? Like I’m fine with it. Like I’m okay with someone treating you like that,” Brent said. 

“Hey,” Jonny told him, grabbing his arm, and stopping his current fidgeting. He looked him straight in the eye and told him, “You are nothing like him. How could you possibly stop something you didn’t even know was happening?”

“Well, I could ha-” Brent tried to respond, but Jonny interrupted him. 

“You couldn’t have known. You couldn’t have done anything. Manning had made sure of that. Not until I told you. And now that I have, I know you’ll do everything in your power to help me. Sometimes things are out of our control, and we just have to do the best we can. I don’t expect you to follow me around the rest of my life and prevent anything bad from happening. I just want to know that at the end of the day you’ll be there for me and have my back.”

“Always,” Brent promised him fiercely. 

“Always,” Duncs vowed.

“Always,” Jonny echoed them both. “You’ve been there for me since day one, and that’s more than I could have ever hoped for when I was dreaming of playing in the NHL. There was no begrudging acceptance from either of you. You never ignored a part of me you didn’t understand. Instead, you wholeheartedly embraced every part,” he told them both, before turning back to Seabs. “I know you’re always by my side, and I’d never compare you to someone like Manning. Don’t be worrying about what you could have done, because you couldn’t have done anything. But now you can, and you’re here, believing me without question. That’s all I need.” 

Brent’s shoulders slumped as he took in Jonny’s words. Jonny watched as unbridled anger morphed into understanding. “Look at you, comforting me, when I should be comforting you. What the hell is wrong with me?” he asked Jonny. 

“Nothing I know of except your ugly mug. But we all know there’s nothing to be changed about that,” Jonny quipped back. Duncs just laughed as Seabs balked at both of them. 

As they started making their way to the room, Seabs pulled Jonny back into a hug. 

“I’m still sorry, you know,” he murmured into his ear. 

“I know.” 

When they got back into the room, it was only a few minutes before they were supposed to return to the ice, so Jonny put his captain voice on and drew everybody’s attention to them. 

“Before you hear it from someone else, I want you to hear it from me,” Jonny began, and then told them the basics. They didn’t need all the details, not really. He told them that Manning had been flinging slurs at him all night and that Jonny had just lost it, with the high sticking penalty, and with the fight. He told them that he was reporting Manning now, because he knew speaking up was really the only way anything would change. 

“I don’t want sympathy or pity, that’s not why I’m telling you all this. You’re my team and I owe you the truth. You deserve to know what’s going on out there.” Jonny paused as Colliton made his way into the room. 

“I know I can count on every single one of you, and I appreciate all of your concern tonight. I couldn’t ask for a better group of guys surrounding me. Coach and I will figure this all out. I don’t want any of you taking this into your own hands. And for the last time tonight I’ll tell you, no more stupid penalties.” Cat and Stromer cleared their throats pointedly before eyeing Jonny, and all he could do was laugh. “Tonight, that applies to everyone except for me.” 

It was time to go back out, everyone was already getting up and shuffling around their stalls, ready for the third. The clock posted above a row of stalls was telling them it was better to run, not walk their asses out there, because they were already a little bit late. But before anyone could make their way out of the room, Colliton stopped them and began to address them like Jonny just had. 

“Don’t worry about the time, they’re delaying the start of the third period a little bit.” 

That caused the shuffling to stop, and everyone to sit back down, cramming into the closest stall to them rather than their own. If it wasn’t for the seriousness of the situation Jonny would have laughed at Olli, Dylan, and Murphy practically sitting on top of one another in Cat’s stall.

All heads were turned Coach’s way when he began to speak again. 

“I know we might all be a little shocked and surprised about what Toews just told us. I know I am. But I also know that all of us knew, deep down, could sense that something more was happening tonight. What Manning did is unacceptable, and has no place in hockey, or our league.

“Quite frankly I’m disgusted by what’s gone on out there tonight, and the fact that it would have gone undetected if Jonny hadn’t been brave enough to let us know is deeply troubling. 

“I have talked to the officials, and with Jon’s help, we were able to paint a clear picture for everybody on what exactly went on. Manning is suspended for the rest of the game. Using that kind of language is an automatic game misconduct, which I’m sure most of you know. I wouldn’t be surprised if he got a call within the next few days from the Department of Player Safety.” Dylan let out a whoop and Seabs said something about the asshole getting what he deserved before Jonny could shush them. 

“He’s probably, as we speak, getting in a cab right now to go back to their hotel for the night. The league didn’t think it was a good idea for him to stay in the building any longer, for his safety and the safety of all other players. 

“I know this is good news. I myself am glad to hear that he will be far away from all of us. But I want to stress that we still have a third period to play, and a game to win tonight. It’s tied, so don’t go out there and blow it because you want to prove something to the Oilers. I’ll copy Toews here when I say do not get any stupid penatlies out there. I mean it. No fighting. No trying to get pay back. Focus on the win, and when we get it, that will be pay back enough.” 

The guys nodded, and agreed, but Jonny saw some rolling their eyes and others already plotting how they were going to get even. He knew it wasn’t going to be smooth sailing in the third, and if Colliton was smart, he knew this was falling on deaf ears. 

Jonny didn’t say a word though, just gave fist bumps and knocked shoulders. It wasn’t until they were all making their way down the tunnel that Jonny yelled from behind them all, “Remember, no fucking fighting!” 

All he got was laughter and grins in return. Fuckers. 

Jonny wasn’t even on the ice yet when he started to hear it. His name was being chanted on repeat, and only growing louder as more guys spilled onto the ice. It was almost deafening, the chanting, and it only got louder when he finally emerged. The second his front skate hit the ice the crowd cheered like he’d brought the cup home to them for the fourth time. It was the best welcome home he’d ever received. 

With eight minutes left on his penalties, Jonny was intent on skating straight to the box to serve his time. But when a mess of curls caught his eye, he thought he might have to take a little detour before sitting out his sentence. 

Patrick. 

He couldn’t believe he’d completely forgotten about him. With all the drama with Manning, he’d gotten completely side tracked on why tonight was originally supposed to be such a big deal. 

Patrick was probably worried sick, with the fight and him literally being dragged off the ice. It wasn’t the good impression Jonny had wanted to give him, and he definitely hadn’t gotten to show off for him. Instead, he’d looked half crazed all night, furious and pushed to his limits. 

Patrick looked exactly how Jonny felt. As Jonny skated over to Patrick, he could see him standing with the rest of the band, beating on the glass to welcome him back. But unlike the rest of the band, who looked giddy with excitement and the knowledge that the Hawks were about to bring a hell of a third period, Patrick looked gutted. He looked like he’d just been in a fight, not Jonny. His curls were pushed every which way, splayed in the air and across his forehead, having been misplaced by his own hands running through them. His bottom lip looked almost blood red from his teeth sinking into it, and Jonny could see that he was still biting it, the nervous energy Patrick had from worrying about Jonny must still be coursing through his system. The longer Jonny looked at him the more he thought Patrick was a moment away from trying to jump over the boards and join the fray. 

It wasn’t until Jonny was less than a foot in front of Patrick that their eyes met. Patrick met his eyes but for a second before he was raking them up and down Jonny’s body, trying to detect any signs of damage. Jonny just let him look his fill. 

“Are you okay?” Patrick asked him. Jonny didn’t really hear him ask it, but rather read his lips as the crowd and the music still prevented him from hearing anything. 

Jonny nodded, and tapped on the glass in front of Patrick. It wasn’t much, but it was the only thing he could do to persuade him he was fine until he could actually talk to Patrick after the game. 

When Jonny skated away, he saw Sharpy wrapping his arm around Patrick, and bend down to explain something to him. Maybe to convince him that Jonny was okay, because the last thing he saw was Patrick’s worried face transforming into something a little calmer. 

After settling comfortably into the box, he watched the puck drop for the third. Before five seconds had even passed, the announcer was informing the crowd of another penalty. That number twenty six, Brandon Manning, was getting a game misconduct and wouldn’t be returning to the game. After the announcement, it was silent. But that didn’t last long, not even half a second, before Jonny heard the murmurs and quite muttering of the crowd. It didn’t take a genius to realize that Manning was the one who had fought Jonny earlier, and it wouldn’t be too hard to guess the reason why he’d not been allowed to return to the game. Jonny didn’t let it affect him. It’s not like it was a secret. He was sure the Hawks were already preparing some sort of press conference for him after the game. 

So, Jonny didn’t focus on that. Instead, he watched the battle that was happening before him. 

No one, it seemed, had taken Colliton’s words to heart. Everyone was playing rough. They were finishing their checks, throwing elbows, and skating with a level of determination that surprised even Jonny. 

Jonny itched to get out there and help his team, while eight minutes slowly crawled by. He watched as the Oilers scored, and the Hawks came right back, evening it up again within the next minute. The guys had held it down for him, made sure that they’d still be in it by the time he’d join them. Well, they were still in it and had plenty of time to take the lead and keep it. 

He got up and waited by the door, watching the clock wind down from five seconds, four seconds, three, two, one. 

Freedom. 

It was magic being back on the ice, soaring up and down the rink feeling like he’d never been so free. He couldn’t stop the smile on his face. He felt untouchable, invincible, and like no defensemen could even get close to catching him right now. 

It only took a couple minutes though, for Jonny to realize that maybe the Oilers were giving him a little too much space. He’d assumed by now that word had spread to the Oilers’ bench, or that they’d at least guessed what had happened, because no one was going after Jonny. He could tell that they were giving him a little extra room and that was starting to piss him off again. They were doing it to such an extent that at one time three guys were on Saad and no one was anywhere near him. 

Jonny wanted to win. He especially wanted to win tonight, but he didn’t want to get it because the Oilers weren’t even trying. Jonny wanted to earn it. 

The next time the whistle blew, Jonny skated right up behind McDavid and told him, “No special treatment,” before going back to the bench for a line change. 

Connor must have taken what Jonny said to heart, because after that everything was back to normal. Just like any other hockey game. The only difference was that after the whistle would blow, Oilers would give him friendly stick taps as he skated by, but Jonny let that slide. He knew that was their way of showing him support, and Jonny appreciated that. 

The score remained 2-2 until there was 2:43 left in the third, when Jonny scored the tie breaking, game winning goal. The Oilers had been on the brink of scoring, everyone down on their end of the ice when suddenly the puck had popped free. Saad jumped on it and had sent a long pass down the ice to Strome, and he’d sent a sweet pass Jonny’s way so all he had had to do was finish it off. It went flying between the goalie’s pad and his stick and landed right in the back of the net. 

The second Jonny saw that the puck had crossed the goal line he was off. He skated around the goal and out toward center ice. He turned his face and raised his hand up to cup around his ear, just begging the crowd to be louder. 

Showtime, baby. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Patrick just cheered louder, giving Jonny exactly what he’d asked for. He was slapping the glass and yelling like his life depended on it. 

Jonny was radiant, his smile blinding as the crowd’s cheers rained down upon him. The next second Patrick watched as half the Hawks’ bench jumped on top of him in celebration. There might have been time still left on the clock, but the game was over. The Hawks knew it, the Oilers knew it, and the fans sure as hell knew it. No one was going to take this away from Jonny, not after everything he’d been through to get it. 

When the refs finally started making noise about finishing the rest of the game, the extra Hawks players made their way back to their bench, and Jonny emerged again. 

Jonny had started to make his way back to the bench as well, when all of a sudden, he stopped, seemingly remembering something. He skated a little ways away from his bench, past center ice, and was suddenly feet away from Patrick, shooting him a wicked grin and pointing at him like he’d been the one to assist on his goal. 

Patrick’s heart stopped, and that’s when he knew he was completely, 100% gone on Jonathan Toews, and nothing would ever change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter! Chapter 8 is gonna be a lot of Jonny and Pat time so get excited <3 
> 
> Thanks for reading and for all the kudos + comments!


	8. Ice Cream & Rom Coms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonny and Patrick are reunited at last! Jonny’s worn out from the post game press and everything that had come before it. Patrick just wants to take care of him.
> 
> Alt summary: The chapter where Jonny takes Patrick home for the first time (literally, that is).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a longer one! I hope you enjoy it!

In the post game interview, Jonny had to answer way too many questions about his own sexuality, and not nearly enough on Manning’s inexcusable actions. Progress was a slow, slow thing Jonny knew, so he wasn’t all that surprised. At least none of the reporters had tried to pin the blame on Jonny. If they had, they might have seen a fight of their own. 

Jonny was the only one interviewed after the game, and it had been moved from the locker room to one of the areas deemed presentable enough for press conferences. An area usually reserved for announcing a new coach or an important trade, not for addressing a skirmish on the ice. 

Although Jonny loved his teammates something fierce, he was glad to be doing the interview solo. In the first few years of his career, when an incident such as this would arise, Jonny would do an interview like this one, only with two teammates by his side. The NHL said they were there to support Jonny, and maybe that was partly true, but it wasn’t why they were really there. In actuality they were there to help translate for Jonny, as if Jonny was speaking a foreign language that only his teammates could understand. Reporters would ask their questions, Jonny would answer, and then a teammate would sympathize, or explain how those actions had hurt the whole team, not just Jonny. Reporters took Jonny’s struggles seriously because his teammates took them seriously, not because Jonny himself did. 

He was glad they’d moved past that. 

Jonny both hated and appreciated that the whole thing was getting so much attention. He hated answering all the reporters’ invasive personal questions. He felt like he was carving out tiny parts of himself and handing them over each time he answered a question. He appreciated though, that the league, and the Blackhawks organization especially, cared about holding Manning accountable. That, ultimately, was what it was all about. The fact that Jonny was able to speak for himself, to tell the truth of what happened in his own words and be listened to and believed was almost more than he could ask for. He knew better than to take that for granted. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress. 

“Saad, shut the fuck up and listen, won’t you?” Jonny could hear DeBrincat saying as he walked down the hall towards the locker room. 

“I wasn’t even talking.” 

“Don’t roll your eyes, yes you were!” 

“Okayyyyyyy Brinksy.” 

At the entrance of the locker room, Jonny leaned against the door frame, taking in the scene in front of him. DeBrincat, in the middle of the locker room, had his arm thrown around Patrick. The rest of the band was there beside him, Sharp smirking at Cat’s attempts at attention, and Dylan talking Panarin’s ear off. Some of the guys were forming a semi circle around them, while others were changing at their stalls. All eyes were now on DeBrincat though, since he had so obviously demanded it. 

Jonny thought he heard someone murmur “Who died and made him captain?” but he wasn’t entirely sure. Though the daggers Cat sent a corner of the room might have confirmed it. 

“Everyone, this is _The_ Patrick Kane, lead vocalist of Showtime,” Cat introduced. 

“Hi, nice to meet everyone,” Patrick said, giving the room a little wave. The hint of a blush had started to appear across his cheeks, making him look shy as ever. 

“Oh, we know,” Duncs said. 

“I’d recognize that voice anywhere,” Brent added. 

“We’ve been listening to your new album nonstop in the room,” Dylan explained. 

“Plus, we recognized your face. With the group chat and all, it’d be hard not to,” Murphy said. 

“The group chat?” Patrick squeaked out.

“Anyone who catches Jonny’s attention catches ours as well,” Brent told him plainly, like it was all so obvious. 

And there it was, the full blown blush Jonny loved so much making an appearance once again. Jonny just loved it. Loved it even more when he thought about how he had made Patrick feel this way. How he had had a hand in everything that had led to that blush. Patrick at _his_ game. Patrick in _his_ locker room. Patrick with _his_ teammates. Patrick even in _his_ jersey. (Though that was purely Patrick’s idea.) Patrick was wearing Jonny’s name like he already belonged to him. Maybe he did. The possessive part of Jonny latched onto it all.

“ _Anyways_ ,” Dylan said, “This is Patrick Sharp, Corey Crawford, and Artemi Panarin, the rest of Showtime. Jonny had gotten them tickets to the game tonight, so you might have seen them at the glass.” 

Jonny rolled his eyes. Like they didn’t all know this already. Like they haven’t all heard Cat screaming about it after warmups earlier that night. By this point, everyone in the Hawks organization probably knew they were here and the exact seats they had sat in. The guys in the room definitely did, so he had no idea why he was explaining it all to them again. Maybe to make the band more comfortable? To make it seem like they hadn’t been the second most popular conversation topic of the night? Jonny didn’t know. 

Guys started going up to the band then, abandoning their stalls to make unnecessary introductions (since Patrick and the band had probably known all of their names long before they stepped foot in the locker room) and ask after how they enjoyed the game. 

Before Jonny could make his presence known, a voice from beside him startled him. 

“Is there a reason we aren’t going in?” Tyler asked him in a whisper.

“No, I,” Jonny paused, unsure what to say. He’d just needed a second to himself, a second where no one expected anything of him, before he was back with everyone again. Jonny didn’t know if that would be an overshare. 

“I just needed a second to catch my breath, with the post game press and all.” 

Tyler’s face morphed into something sympathetic and Jonny kind of hated it. Hated that people were always feeling sorry for him. He didn’t want that, but he knew that was just how people showed they cared. 

“I'm really sorry about what all went down tonight, Jonny. I kind of got the feeling it was something bad, more than just missed calls, but I had hoped it hadn’t been that.”

“Nothing you can do about it,” Jonny told him, shrugging. “Thank you though.”

“Still…” Jonny saw an elbow nudge Tyler’s side and he continued. “Ohh! Sorry! Thank you for the seats again. Best seats I’ve ever sat in, obviously. We really enjoyed it.” 

Tyler seemed to remember something else then, “Oh! I should introduce y'all!” Tyler grabbed the arm that had previously elbowed him and brought it, and the man attached to it, forward. “Jonny, this is my grumpier but somehow sexier better half, Jamie Benn.” 

Before him stood the security guard from last night. Huh. That was definitely not what he had expected.

“Patrick’s husband, ehh?” Jamie asked, good naturedly, looking a lot less menacing and a lot more friendly than last night. He reached out and shook Jonny’s hand. 

“Well,” Jonny shrugged, “Maybe someday.” 

Tyler gave them both a confused look but left it at that. Jonny was sure Tyler would get Jamie to explain how they’d already met later. 

Done with hiding, Jonny slapped his palm against the wall, dragging everyone's attention to them. 

“Cat, B minus on the introduction front, since you forgot two people. Everyone, this is Tyler Seguin and Jamie Benn. I met them at the show last night as well. Tyler is a photographer so he might be taking a few shots. Don’t break his camera with your face.” 

“Jonny!” Cat screamed and ran straight for him. He barreled into him and wrapped him into a suffocating hug. Jonny counted to five and then pushed him off. 

“Get off of me, you’re being ridiculous,” Jonny said all too fond. 

DeBrincat just gave him a goofy smile in return and led him to Patrick. 

“Hey, Pat,'' he murmured. He took Patrick’s chin in hand and tipped his face up. “Just let me shower and we can get out of here.”

“Yeah?” Patrick breathed. 

“Yeah, I’ll just be a few minutes.” 

Everything after that was a blur. Jonny showered. Tyler took pictures of the guys. Jerseys were signed and passed around. 

Brent and Sharpy were getting a little too close for Jonny’s comfort, snickering like teenagers while swapping stories about Jonny and Patrick respectively, but he didn’t interfere. He’d let them have their fun for the time being. 

The room was buzzing, and all the Manning drama had seemed to be forgotten. No one was asking Jonny about his interview or seeking more info on what Manning said. Jonny was more than grateful. 

Patrick though, was a different case. While he was being dragged around the room by Cat and Stromer, Jonny could feel his worried glances on him. Jonny didn’t know what to think about that. 

Jonny quickly changed, more than ready to get out of there, but before he could grab Patrick and go, he remembered something. 

“Duncs, pay up,” Jonny said, cocky as he saddled up to his side. 

Duncs grumbled but pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. After rummaging around a bit, he handed Jonny a hundred dollar bill. 

Jonny snatched it out of his hand, feeling triumphant but also ready to push his luck. He pursed his lips, contemplative and displeased and said, “You don’t know where we’re going tonight.” 

Duncs narrowed his eyes at Jonny, and Jonny shot him his signature stare. 

Duncs huffed, breaking first, and pulled another hundred out of his wallet. 

“Happy?” Duncs said, acting way too put out. 

Jonny just shrugged, “Well, you did say you’d pay for it. Besides, why do you even have this much cash on you?” 

Seabs appeared by their side with Patrick then, and answered Jonny, “Probably for situations just like this.” 

Duncs punched Seabs in the shoulder and Seabs just pushed him off. “What? It’s true! You’re always taking on a bet you know you’ll lose. Gotta be prepared for that.” 

“That’s not true,” Duncs said adamant. 

“Yeah, it is.” Seabs told him.

“It. Isn’t. Name one other time that I-”

“Okay, that’s enough of that. Patrick and I are going to head out.” Jonny waved the bills around for emphasize, “Thanks for dinner, Duncs.” 

“You’re welcome, asshole.” Duncs replied, a little too fond to be passed off as anything remotely close to pissed off. Jonny knew that Duncs, and Seabs too, were all too happy by this recent development with Patrick, and that they would gladly fit the bill if only Jonny was happy again. 

With his hand on the small of Patrick’s back, Jonny led Patrick out of the locker room, stopping to give goodbyes when they were warranted, but mostly undeterred on their way out. 

The second it was just the two of them, Patrick stopped and turned to face him. It was the first time they’d been truly alone since everything had happened. 

Concern was pouring out of Patrick, and Jonny didn’t know if he could bear the weight of it. If he was even deserving of it. Patrick looked like the world that he’d always known had crumpled around him tonight, and he’d do just about anything to get it all back. 

Patrick reached up to cup Jonny’s face, his touch feather light, and he simply asked, “Are you okay?” 

Jonny was struck by the simplicity of the question. He wasn’t asking Jonny for details. He didn’t ask for the words Manning had spewed. He didn’t ask for any explanation on Jonny’s part. He didn’t question Jonny on why he thought fighting was his best option, or why he didn’t say anything straightaway. He wasn’t concerned about any of that. He just wanted to know if Jonny was okay. 

“Yeah,” Jonny answered, clearing his throat before he continued, “Yeah, I am.” 

Patrick’s eyes bore into his, reading each emotion that flickered across his face. He paused, waiting to see if Jonny was going to say anything else. When nothing else came, Patrick just nodded, and eventually the hint of a smile, something a little sly, started to tug at the corner of his lips.

“Is it too soon to talk about how hot that fight got me tonight, because…” 

A surprised laugh erupted out of Jonny, and he slung an arm around Patrick, fitting him to his side. 

“Definitely not too soon. Please give me all the details,” Jonny replied, as they started walking again. 

“Well, for starters,” Patrick began, but then paused and his face changed into something unrecognizable. “What’s he doing here?” 

Jonny tore his eyes from Patrick and found Connor McDavid standing just a few feet in front of them. He was looking nothing like he had when Jonny had seen him last, having obviously changed out of his uniform. Now, he was sporting a light gray suit, with a black overcoat on top, presumably to battle Chicago’s February chill. 

McDavid looked lost, that was very apparent, but not the kind of lost you felt because you’d wandered down the wrong hallway. It was something altogether more, something that was causing the fidgeting of his hands, and the anxiety and worry warring on his face. 

When Jonny and Patrick took the last few steps to close the distance between them, McDavid looked both relieved and devastated at the realization that he’d found Jonny. 

“McDavid, what’s up?” Jonny asked in a way of greeting. 

“Connor, please,” he said automatically. 

“Connor it is. How can I help you? You get lost around here?” 

Jonny watched Connor’s eyes flickered from his face, to Patrick’s, to the arm Jonny had wrapped tightly around Patrick’s shoulders, to the number on Patrick’s sleeve, and then back to Jonny. 

He looked all together shocked. His eyes grew and remained unblinking; his lips were parted in a silent exclamation. He seemed momentarily stunned with the understanding of who Patrick was to Jonny. 

Jonny could feel Patrick starting to squirm uncomfortably under the weight of Connor’s gaze. After tonight, he was probably thinking the worst about McDavid, but Jonny knew better.

Connor had obviously come to talk to Jonny, but it was becoming abundantly apparent he wasn’t going to speak without prompting. 

Jonny leaned down and whispered to Patrick, “Can you give me a second? It won’t take long.” 

Patrick met his eyes and asked him an unspoken question, not budging from under Jonny’s arm. Jonny didn’t need words to understand him. 

“He’s okay, I promise.”

Patrick seemed to trust his answer, because in the next second he was out of Jonny’s hold, and wandering down the hallway far enough to be out of ear shot but close enough to keep an eye on them. 

The lack of Patrick’s presence seemed to shake Connor out of his daze. His gaze snapped back from Patrick’s retreating form to Jonny, and an embarrassed flush spread across his cheeks. He looked like a scared animal about to bolt, but he stayed and began nonetheless. 

“Ummm,” he cleared his throat, “Sorry to interrupt, but-”

“You’re not interrupting,” Jonny reassured him, while literally interrupting him. 

Connor looked a little more relieved when he said, “Okay, cool. That’s… that’s good.”

He nodded at Jonny, and Jonny waited him out. Connor was fidgeting with the end of his coat sleeves, pulling at them, and folding them along the seams. Jonny was starting to worry that they might literally start to unravel before the night’s conversation ended. With the speed at which they were going, maybe even before the conversation truly began. 

“I just wanted to tell you that -well, obviously- I don’t support what happened out there tonight. Manning is, well… I’ve known that he has a difference of opinion about things like this. The wrong opinion, clearly, but… it’s just been hard to figure out what exactly to say or how to do something about it. Especially after the collar bone thing, it’s not like we’ve ever really seen eye to eye.” Connor ran a hand through his still damp hair before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I’ve always had thoughts on why he did that, you know? Like maybe there was more to it than the game, that maybe it had something to do with something he suspected or assumed I was, and that that was something he didn’t like.” 

“Oh, Connor,” Jonny sympathized, now resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. Connor just plowed on, like if he stopped for even a too big breath, he wouldn’t be able to get the rest out. 

“As captain, it’s my job to monitor the team and keep an eye out for things of this nature. As his captain, it’s my job to hold him accountable and stop these kinds of things from happening. But after hearing the throw away comments he’d make in the locker room, and after the incident between us, I guess I was too scared to. And now this happened and, and-”

Connor broke off, emotions finally getting the better of him. He looked down at the ground, shaking his head, searching for the right answers down in the pavement. Finding them there, or realizing he’d have to find them within himself, he looked back up to Jonny and continued. 

“I can’t stop thinking that it’s my fault that this happened tonight. I suspected something when you got the penalty in the first, but when things seemed to be going better at the start of the second, I just assumed I had been projecting. But then I knew I had been right when your first punch landed. Watching that fight, I felt like each punch was wrecking my own body, each blow reverberating in my skin like both of you were attacking me. 

“I knew why the fight was really happening, and I knew it was my fault, because I hadn’t said anything. Not back in Edmonton where it had all started for me, not when he was traded. Never said a word when he said something so obviously offensive in the locker room but passed it off as a joke. But what I should have known -and maybe did, deep down, but didn’t want to address- was that every time I didn’t say anything, it was like I was unwittingly giving my approval on it. Saying it was okay. 

“I allowed it to happen. For it to grow into something so uncontrollable that, that, that…”

“It’s okay,” Jonny told him, wrapping him up into a hug. “It’s okay. You have nothing to apologize for. None of this is your fault. What Manning did falls on Manning, not you.”

“But, I-” Connor mumbled into Jonny’s shoulder. 

“You did the best you could. I’m just sorry no one was there to stand up for you. It can be a lonely place sometimes. Living with a secret that you never believe you’ll be able to tell. But I’m here. I’m here.” 

Jonny felt his coat grow wet underneath Connor’s face, buried in the crock of his neck. He just kept him there, steading him, as he rubbed soothing circles into his back. 

Jonny didn’t know how long they stood there like that, maybe seconds or maybe it grew into long minutes slowly passing them by. Either way, eventually Connor rose, and with the sleeves he was so preoccupied with earlier, he quickly swiped the corners of his eyes. 

“I’m,” Connor began and stopped. 

“I know,” Jonny told him. 

“And you won’t?”

“Of course not.”

“Thank you.” 

Jonny could feel the gratitude radiating off him in waves. Connor trusted him with his secret, this heavy weighted thing now weighing down Connor just a little less as Jonny carried some of it for him. Jonny was more than happy to take the weight. He wished he could take it all. 

“I won’t, but you should tell someone, someone close to you, someone you can trust. It would make it easier on you,” Jonny told him. 

“Yeah I,” Connor shrugged, “There's someone.” 

Connor nodded behind him and Jonny saw Leon Draisaitl just a little ways back, hidden in the shadows. He hadn’t even noticed him, distracted by Patrick and then Connor, but he realized Leon had probably been there the whole time. Like Patrick, out of ear shot, but close enough to swoop in at the first sign of trouble. 

“That’s good,” Jonny told him. “That's really good.”

“Yeah,” Connor’s face heated as a small smile teased the corners of his lips. 

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it. It looked like you were in the middle of something,” Connor said, as his eyes swept back to Patrick. 

“Yeah, it’s new but it’s, you know, good. Really good,” Jonny told him. 

“I'm glad, Jon. That makes me really,” Connor broke off, “Yeah. Just. Happy. I’ll let you two to it, then.”

Before Connor could get too far though, Jonny asked, “You have my number, right?”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

“Don’t be afraid to use it some time.”

“Thanks, Jonny. I just might.”

As Jonny watched Connor’s retreating form meet up with Leon, he felt warm arms tugging him into a safe securing hold, as Patrick plastered himself to Jonny’s back. 

“What was that all about?” Patrick asked into his neck. 

“Nothing, just checking in on me. You know, captain stuff.”

Patrick released Jonny, but moved up beside him, taking up one of Jonny’s hands and pulling him down the hall. 

“Come on, let’s go. Someone promised me food, and I’m starving,” Patrick said.

Jonny laughed, “What are you in the mood for?” 

It turned out that Patrick was in the mood for pizza. Again. 

“That’s what you really want? Duncs is paying, we could go all out if you really wanted, go get some nice steaks somewhere maybe, and you want pizza?” Jonny asked, incredulous, as he buckled his seat belt. 

“Yeah,” Patrick said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Aren’t you tired of pizza? You literally had that last night, and, I’m guessing, leftovers for breakfast this morning.” Jonny asked, as he drove them out of the arena parking lot.

“How could you ever get tired of perfection?” Patrick asked him from the passenger seat. “Besides, we can get Chicago style pizza tonight, which we didn’t have yesterday. If you really think about it, it’s like eating something else entirely.” 

Jonny rolled his eyes fondly, “Whatever you want, Patrick.” 

“That’s what I like to hear!” Patrick beamed up at him with a smile that left Jonny breathless. Jonny would give Patrick whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it for as long as Patrick would let him. 

“Where do you recommend?” Patrick asked. 

Jonny listed out a few places, places that he’d taken his Winnipeg friends to in the early days of his time in Chicago, and places that his teammates would frequent for their cheat meals. Patrick mulled over his choices, googling them all, checking reviews, and examining photos on their websites like this decision alone would make or break the night. Once Patrick had finally decided, he called in and placed their order, this time without additional cheesy bread or dessert, and made sure to get a salad for Jonny. 

While Jonny was pulling into a spot outside the restaurant, Patrick had already started unbuckling his seat belt. 

“I’ll get it,” Patrick told him, the light of the storefront illuminating his soft features. 

“Thanks, Pat,” Jonny said, handing him the bills that Duncs had given him. 

“Be right back,” Patrick promised, when the car was finally in park and Patrick deemed it safe enough to get out. He gave Jonny’s wrist, resting on the gear shift, a gentle squeeze before jumping out.

Jonny was grateful that Patrick had gone in to pick up the delivery. He didn’t know if he had the energy to face anyone else right now after the commotion of the game and the interviews that followed. The constant questioning and pestering (though lovingly) from teammates, coaches, trainers, and reporters was a little much. He didn’t want to add strangers to the list. 

A sudden realization hit Jonny like a puck dinging off a crossbar. Patrick had, without even saying a word, catered their dinner plans with Jonny’s needs in mind. Patrick had realized, before Jonny even had, that going out in public would be the last thing Jonny would want to do to cap off the day, so he’d insisted on takeout. Pizza was probably the first thing that had popped into his mind and he had just run with it. Jonny was stunned by Patrick’s thoughtfulness, and the care and consideration he had shown him. 

Lost in thought, he jumped out of his seat when Patrick opened one of the back doors and put the food in. 

“Are you alright?” Patrick asked, once he’d slid into the front seat. His tone suggested that he was worried, rather than joking. 

“Of course, Pat. The door just scared me. Thanks for going in.” 

“No problem.” Patrick told him, settling back into the passenger seat but still keeping an eye on Jonny. 

As Jonny drove them to his place, Patrick’s assessing glances seemed to lessen in frequency. He started singing along to the radio then, and his voice lulled Jonny’s mind into a place of comfort. 

“You know,” Jonny told him, “We could have eaten out if you really wanted. Sat down some place nice. We didn’t have to hide away because of me.” 

“I know. I like pizza,” Patrick said simply. 

Jonny shook his head, knowing that Patrick’s love of pizza had not been the main factor when deciding their dinner plans for the night. But if Patrick didn’t want to spell it out, then Jonny wasn’t going to force him to. 

“Thanks Patrick,” Jonny said, as he reached over and squeezed Patrick’s thigh, resting his hand there. 

Patrick looked at him sideways, trying to decipher all of Jonny’s complexities, before plastering a smirk across his face that bordered on a leer. 

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m probably not as selfless as you think. How do you know I did this for you? Maybe I just wanted to take you home. Get you all to myself,” Patrick said, placing his hand over Jonny’s and yanking it up his thigh to rest almost but not quite on top of Patrick’s dick. Jonny moved their hands over to Patrick’s dick then, and started to rub at his hardening cock, which was only growing harder as Jonny continued. Before Jonny could take things further -probably too far considering he was driving- he brought his hands up to rest at ten and two. 

“You’re gonna make me wreck the car.” 

“Then pull over,” Patrick said, easy. 

Jonny groaned. He told Patrick through gritted teeth, “Home. Eat first. You said you were hungry.” 

“Maybe I’m hungry for something else.” The heat in Patrick’s eyes was unmistakable, and Jonny started to really consider pulling the car over. If he wasn’t worried about getting a public indecency charge, he might have. 

“Patrick,” Jonny said, as both a reprimand and a plea. 

“Jonny.”

“Later,” Jonny promised him, “Let’s eat first, yeah? That okay, baby?” 

Patrick’s eyes lit up at the endearment as he hummed in agreement. “If you say so, Jonny.” 

The rest of the short ride home was painful, but blessedly short. After they pulled in, Patrick made sure to grab the food before they made their way out of the parking garage and into Jonny’s building. Jonny placed his hand on the small of Patrick’s back, guiding him the whole way up the elevator and down the hallway to his condo. 

“Jonny,” Patrick said as Jonny fumbled with his keys, taking ten times longer than it normally did for him to unlock his door. 

Eventually, he got it unlocked, but before Jonny could even make his way inside, Patrick was pushing past him and dropping their dinner on the first available flat surface. When he noticed Jonny’s lack of progress, he came back and ripped Jonny through his own door. 

“Oh,” Jonny let slip as Patrick pushed him up against the back of the front door, safely inside and away from prying eyes. 

“Maybe food can wait, yeah?” Patrick suggested, as his hands began to skim up and down Jonny’s arms. 

Jonny started to nod, but before he could voice his agreement, his phone rang. 

“Ignore it,” Patrick said, nipping at his ear. And as much as Jonny wanted to do just that, he knew he couldn’t. What if something had happened to one of the guys on their way home and they needed his help? 

“I just gotta,” Patrick sucked a biting kiss below his ear, causing Jonny to lose his train of thought. “I just gotta see who it is. In case it's ummm mmmm something important.” He gently pushed Patrick back, just a few inches, so he could grab his phone out of his pocket and see who was calling. 

David. 

He must have made a face, because Patrick instantly stepped back from him, giving him space. 

“Sorry, I have to take this. Brother,” he said in a way of explanation. “Let me go grab you some sweats that you can change into. I’m guessing you didn’t want to wear jeans and a jersey all night.”

“Not unless you wanted me to,” Patrick said, giving him a cheeky wink. 

“Patrick,” Jonny groaned. Patrick just laughed and told him to answer the damn phone before it stopped ringing. Jonny did, and was instantly met by David’s worried voice. 

“Are you okay? What the hell happened, Jon? I got some push notification from the NHL and watched your post game interview. Details, now,” David said. 

As Jonny recounted what happened to David, he made his way to his bedroom, retrieving some sweats and a few shirts for Patrick and himself. He made his way back out before changing though, and silently handed the clothes to Patrick while pointing at the bathroom by the guest rooms. Patrick just nodded, typing away on his phone before he started walking over to change. 

Still on the phone, Jonny made his way back to his room to change. Instead of hanging up his suit like he normally would, he just draped it against his reading chair. As much as he loved David and appreciated his concern, he was trying to change and get off the phone as quickly as possible, just wanting to be back by Patrick’s side. 

“Do you think he’ll get suspended?” David asked him, phone on speaker, as Jonny tugged his sweatpants on. 

“I don’t know. I hope so. I mean, probably, if the DPS actually does their job and follows the rules. Then yeah, he should at least be suspended a game or two.” His answer was muffled briefly, when Jonny had pulled his shirt over his head, but David didn’t mention it. 

“If he only gets a fine, I’m gonna riot.” 

“David,” Jonny started in, “Don’t get worked up over all this bull shit. I don’t want anyone giving Manning any more attention. That’s probably why he did this in the first place. Clearly, he so sorely needs it, and since he can’t get it from his play he has to find other ways to get it.”

“It’s not wrong to want to see him be held accountable for being a homophobic ass, Jon. Sorry if that disrupts your ‘pay no mind’ stance but I-” David broke off at the same time Jonny heard the microwave go off. 

“Is someone else there?” David asked Jonny, his fuming from moments ago forgotten as his intrigue grew. 

“Umm yeah, actually there is,” Jonny told him, embarrassed, heat spreading along the back of his neck. Jonny and David were close, but David was way to invested in his sex life, like his overbearing gossip loving team mates were, and he knew David would want to have a full blown analysis over everything Patrick. Jonny wanted to avoid all that before it even started. 

“Which is why I have to go. Now. I’ll talk to you later, David,” Jonny told him, abruptly and not so subtly trying to end the call. 

“Oh my god, what’s his name? Is he hot?”

“David,” Jonny said exasperated. David didn’t get the hint (or most likely just ignored it) and continued on with his questions. 

“He’s not a teammate, right?” 

“David,” Jonny said again, “I’m hanging up the phone now.”

“I’m just trying to make sure you’re not breaking one of your rules!” Past his obvious amusement, Jonny could hear the concern in David’s voice, so he let him off the hook this one time. 

“I’m not, you know I’d never sleep with anyone in the NHL.”

“Okay, okay, just checking. You know it’s been a while since you’ve-”

“David. I really have to go. Bye. Talk to you later.”

Jonny hung up the phone before David could even finish getting his goodbye out. Taking a deep breath to calm himself before returning to Patrick, Jonny centered himself once again. 

“Everything okay?” Patrick asked him as he reemerged. He had already changed and was looking ungodly good in Jonny’s clothes. They were a little too big for him, which Jonny had already predicted, but he hadn’t predicted the way his sweatpants were going to hang so loose against his hips. They were dipping so low it was almost sinful.

After dragging his eyes up from Patrick’s hips, he noticed that Patrick had the pizza box open and was already eating slices straight from it. Patrick must have noticed Jonny eyeing the open box because he added, “Thought you wouldn’t mind if I started without you.” 

“No, no of course I don’t mind.” Jonny told him as he walked over to the salad that Patrick had plated for him. “And everything’s fine. David was just calling because he saw what happened and wanted to hear everything from me.” 

While they ate, they kept the conversation light. Jonny talked about some new drills they were running and how they were thinking about changing up the powerplay units, and Patrick told Jonny the story about the one time Sharpy almost got them banned from the venue they were supposed to be playing that night. Patrick laughed the whole way through the story, ending with, “It’s fucking hilarious now, but I was so pissed in the moment. I really thought they weren’t going to let us play.”

“Jonny,” Patrick said, while Jonny was cleaning up, putting the leftovers in the fridge and dishes in the sink. 

“Yeah, Pat?” 

Patrick closed the gap between them and brought one of Jonny’s hands up to his face. “You’re bleeding.” And sure enough, he was. The cuts on his knuckles had split, and blood was coating them like he was back on the ice. 

“Let me wrap them?” Patrick murmured, quietly asking Jonny’s permission. 

Jonny gave him a jerky nod and went to the sink to wash the blood off. 

A few minutes later, Patrick found him on the couch in the living room. Patrick lowered himself between Jonny’s spread legs and rested on his knees. Then he silently asked for Jonny’s permission again, and when Jonny nodded, Patrick took his right hand between his own and started to wrap his knuckles. His touch was gentle, he wrapped with the utmost care, making sure it was done correctly so Jonny wouldn’t have to redo it in a few hours. 

Silence hung in the air between them before Patrick asked, “Has this happened,” he paused to take a steading breath, “Does this happen a lot?” 

“No,” Jonny shook his head. “You’re a fan, you’d know if it did, Pat. This hasn’t happened in a long time.” 

“But it used to?” Patrick, halfway done, took his left hand to start the process all over again. 

“All the time.” 

Patrick’s hands stuttered at that, but he said nothing. 

“I used to be sick before every game just worried something would happen.”

“Jonny,” the sadness in Patrick’s voice was almost too much to take. 

“It’s better now though. Safer. With all the rules in place to protect me, and the other guys, from things like this. It’s not something I worry about anymore.”

Patrick nodded but didn’t say anything. 

“Don’t worry Pat, it’s really not that bad.” 

“Not that bad?” An incredulous laugh escaped Patrick. 

Jonny wrapped both his hands around Patrick’s and waited for him to meet his eyes. When he did, Jonny said, “I’m okay, really.” 

Patrick stared at him for a long moment, nodded again, and went back to wrapping. 

By the time Patrick was done, the mood had shifted into something different. Jonny couldn’t help the heat growing deep in his gut that was now rising throughout his whole body. Patrick’s fingers, though comforting as they worked over Jonny’s hands, felt teasing the longer it went on. 

When Patrick had finally finished, he sat back on his heels. He looked like he was brimming with desire. 

“Pat,” Jonny groaned, unable to hold back after he’d watched Patrick down on his knees for him for the last ten minutes. 

“Yeah?” Patrick breathed more than spoke as he looked up at Jonny through his long eyelashes. 

“Yeah, baby.” He pressed his thumb into the corner of Patrick’s lips. “Come here.”

Patrick lifted off of the ground and was more than willing when Jonny parted his legs and spread him across his lap, Patrick straddling him. 

“Been thinking about this all night,” Jonny said, lips teasing the shell of Patrick’s ear. 

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s true,” Patrick told him, and Jonny could hear the hint of amusement in the soft laughter that followed.

“Well, it should be. Don’t think you deserve any less.” He slid his hands up and down Patrick’s thighs, feeling the muscles underneath his fingers clinch and bunch. 

“Jonny,” Patrick wined, fisting the back of Jonny’s shirt right below his neck. 

Jonny continued to tease, not spurred on by Patrick’s plea, brushing delicate kisses across his features -his jaw, his chin, the tip of his nose, even gentle presses against each eyelid- until Patrick’s squirming became too great to ignore, and he finally, finally, fit his mouth to Patrick’s. 

Patrick kissed him like he was starving for it, like having to wait a day for another taste of Jonny had been almost too much for him to bear. His lips were soft but urgent, and it took no time at all for him to deepen the kiss and slid his tongue into Jonny’s mouth. 

Jonny started to rub slow circles over Patrick’s hip bones, which had been left exposed as his too big sweatpants slipped down. He swallowed down each and every one of the moans that Patrick couldn’t stop from escaping. Jonny took them all gratefully, the taste of them so sweet on his tongue. 

Jonny got a firm grip on some of Patrick’s soft curls then, and tilted his head back to expose his neck. The whine Patrick let out might have been the hottest thing Jonny had ever heard, and he had to pause, just for a second, to make sure he didn’t lose it right there. 

As Jonny was biting down Patrick’s neck, Patrick started writhing, grinding down on his lap, searching for friction of any kind. 

Jonny knew they needed to get to his bedroom. He knew it would be so much better there, where he had room to spread out Patrick properly. But Jonny didn’t think he’d be able to separate from Patrick long enough for them to walk all the way there without falling and cracking their heads open. No, he couldn’t do that. 

Jonny also knew he didn’t want to come in his pants though, and that he needed to move this along if he wanted to avoid that. 

He needed to see more of Patrick, tired of him being so hidden, so he tugged the hem of Patrick’s shirt, asking for permission, and after Patrick nodded, Jonny swiftly ripped it over his head. And that was, Jonny didn’t even have the words, Patrick was even more beautiful than he could have imagined. 

“You too Jonny, want to see,” Patrick said, breathless as he yanked on Jonny’s collar. 

Jonny pulled his shirt over his head, and started to pull Patrick back down against him, before he felt Patrick tense. 

“What’s wrong?” Jonny asked.

“I-” Patrick began, but didn’t continue. The lust that had filled his eyes was clearing rapidly as he studied every piece of skin that Jonny had just exposed. 

“It’s fine if you want to stop,” Jonny told him gently. 

“No,” Patrick said, but still kept his distance. Jonny wasn’t sure what the play here was. He just knew he didn’t want to do anything that Patrick didn’t want.

“It’s really okay if you don’t want to,” Jonny said earnestly.

Patrick just shook his head looking frustrated. “It’s not that. I do. I do want to, I mean. I obviously,” Patrick rocked his hips up into Jonny and the outline of his hard dick dug into Jonny’s abs, “Obviously really want to. It’s just, I don’t think it’s a good idea tonight.” 

Patrick's eyes wandered back down to his chest, as he slowly started tracing the outline of a bruise purpling just below his left nipple. With gentle fingers he followed the bruise down from his nipple, stretching across almost the entirety of his rib cage. 

Now, Jonny understood.

“I’m okay, Pat. Just a few cuts and bruises, nothing I haven’t experienced before.” 

Head tilted in contemplation as he examined Jonny’s body, Patrick made an answering noise of protest. Jonny waited for the rest of Patrick’s response, but when nothing else came, he realized Patrick wasn’t going to say anything else. He just traced over the bruise again and again until he discovered another one peeking out of the waistband of Jonny’s sweats. Then, still spread across Jonny’s lap, he scooted back further on Jonny’s legs so that he could begin to pay that one the same attention as its predecessor. 

“Pat,” Jonny said, stilling Patrick’s hand with his own. 

“You must be exhausted,” Patrick told him, breaking out of his trance, and finally meeting Jonny’s eyes. 

“Yeah, tonight was,” he paused, “a lot.”

“I wish I could have-” Patrick broke off, looking down again. “It’s worse than I thought.” 

In the ensuing silence, Patrick flipped the hand that Jonny had placed on top of his over and threaded their fingers together. 

“I’m sorry about tonight. That this happened to you,” Patrick said, his free hand cupping Jonny’s cheek so he could brush his thumb over the bruise under his eye. 

“There’s no-” Patrick shook his head. “I just, I don’t even know what to say. I’m just happy you're okay. That you're here in front of me.” 

Jonny’s insides warmed from all of Patrick’s concern. He brought their combined hands to his lips and kissed the back of Patrick’s hand. “I’m okay Pat, honest. You don't need to worry.” 

In the next moment, Patrick seemed to decide something. The features of his face quickly shifted, before falling into something Jonny could only describe as determined. 

“Okay, Jonny.” 

Patrick gave him one last indecipherable look and a quick peck on the cheek, before suddenly springing out of Jonny’s lap. Patrick was up and out of the room before Jonny’s skin could even register the loss of contact. 

“What the?” Jonny asked the air around him. 

Jonny’s ears strained as he tried to hear what Patrick was getting up to. It sounded like he was in the kitchen. 

“Do you really not have any ice cream?” Patrick yelled loudly, trying to be heard from rooms away. 

“No. Why would I have ice cream?”

A few moments later Patrick was walking back into the living room mumbling “Why would I have ice cream, he says.” He stopped once he made it back to the couch and pointed right at Jonny. “You are not normal. What do you do at the end of a bad day? Eat some carrots and cry?” 

“I honestly don’t even know the right answer to that.” 

“You’re hopeless, Jon. Really. Normal people would be sitting on the couch watching a good rom com and eating a pint or two of ice cream right about now.” 

“I don’t have any ice cream or rom coms,” Jonny told him, still a bit confused how the seriousness of the conversation before had suddenly departed and shifted to the lightheartedness of discussing his freezer contents. 

“I know Jonny, I know.” Patrick told him soothingly, like the lack of both ice cream and rom coms was some great loss on Jonny’s part. “Just lay back while I find a movie for us to watch.” 

Patrick plopped down on the couch beside Jonny then, and Jonny did what he was told. He watched as Patrick messed with his phone for a few minutes before tossing it aside and opening up Netflix on Jonny’s tv. Patrick bit his lip in concentration as he started to navigate Netflix to find something up to his standards. 

Patrick finally found what he was looking for and clicked on the icon. To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. 

“No,” Jonny told him as Patrick set the remote down and nuzzled into Jonny’s side.

“This is a kids movie, Patrick.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Jon, really? We’re watching the movie whether you think it’s a kids movie or not.” 

Jonny hummed in protest but didn’t say anything else. He watched the first few minutes tensed up and itching to reach for the remote and turn the whole thing off. He knew he was being childish, and he knew he was pouting, but after the day he’d just had, he thought he was allowed. Patrick must have sensed this, because he pulled back from Jonny’s side, heaved a dramatic sigh, and faced Jonny head on.

“You need to relax, Jonny. I’m not putting on some serious insightful drama that gives you some kind of mind fuck. I’m sure that’s your go to or some weird nature-y Canadian wilderness crap, but now’s not the time.”

Patrick then returned to Jonny’s side without waiting for a response. Conversation over, he supposed. 

Jonny knew when he was facing a losing battle, and this was definitely one Jonny wasn’t going to win. So, despite his initial wishes, he relaxed further into the couch, with one arm tight around Patrick, and started watching the movie in earnest. 

They stayed like that, Jonny slowly drifting towards sleep as a cozy Patrick warmed his left side, intently watching Lara Jean navigate the ups and downs of her life, until there was a knock at the door. 

“I’ll get it!” Patrick said, as he shot off the couch and made his way to the door. 

Jonny didn’t bother to turn around and see who it was, his mind was hazy with sleepiness, but he heard Patrick greeting and thanking someone before closing the front door. 

“Ta da!” Patrick said, holding up four pints of Ben & Jerry’s. 

“Is that ice cream?” Jonny asked around a yawn, confused. 

Patrick’s fond smile grew, and an amused noise escaped his lips. “Yes, silly Jonny, it is ice cream. They have these apps nowadays where you can order food at basically any time of day and someone will bring it to you. All you have to do is give them money. Pretty neat trick, right?”

“I know what doordash is, Pat.” Jonny rolled his eyes. “I just don’t know why it’s suddenly in my apartment.”

Now it was Patrick’s time to roll his eyes. “You needed ice cream, Jon. You didn’t have any, so I ordered it. Simple as that.” He shrugged. “This was the best I could do on short notice.”

Then Patrick started to hold up different pints, showing them off to Jonny. “You like chocolate, right? I got that for you, and cookie dough as a backup. Really the strawberry is for me, but if you really want it, you can have that too. That’s why I got two strawberries because, well, I was the one who ordered it, and you can never be too prepared, and after thinking about ice cream for the last hour I couldn’t stand the thought of not getting to have any. 

“I knew I’d have been kinda sad if you took the strawberry, but I wouldn’t have said anything because I know you deserve first pick -but honestly I’m really not that selfless- and I’d have been pretty miserable if you had gotten all the strawberry to yourself. So, to avoid all of that drama, I just got two, you know, problem solved, and-” 

“Patrick,” Jonny stopped him, holding up a hand in both a sign of surrender but also to pause his rambling. “Did you just give someone my address?” he asked, an amused smile starting to spread across his face. 

“Umm… Well…” Patrick rubbed the back of his neck, as a blush rose upon his cheeks. 

“I wasn’t really thinking about it like that.” 

“You weren’t really thinking about how you were giving out my address to strangers? Or how that could somehow be a problem? Just giving my address to anyone who was ready and able to buy ice cream?” Jonny said, all too entertained with this ice cream development now. 

Patrick let out an annoyed breath, looking both irritated and worried, “It’s not like I put your name in. No one’s going to know it was your place, you didn’t even come to the door.” 

“Still…” Jonny said, pursing his lips before breaking into a laugh. 

“Pat, I’m just bull shitting you.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” Patrick said. Then he pointed one of the pints at him, “You’re a menace Jonny, and I don’t know if you deserve ice cream anymore. You legit had me worried that I’d fucked up.” 

“Well, you shouldn’t have been.” Jonny finally sat up and turned his body toward Patrick. “Did you ever stop to think why I didn’t have any ice cream in the fridge, Pat?”

“Because you had ate it all?” He asked, confused. 

“Because I have certain diet restrictions that won’t allow me to eat ice cream.” 

“Are you fucking with me again?” Patrick eyed him skeptically. 

“This time I sadly am not.” 

As Jonny delivered that news, he watched as Patrick’s shoulders slumped and his lips turned into a pout. 

“Oh, don’t be sad, Pat.” Jonny cooed at him. “It was a really nice gesture, and I really appreciate it.”

“I feel like a dumb ass,” Patrick grumbled. 

Jonny got up and wrapped his arms around Patrick, who was still holding all the pints. 

“You shouldn’t. And besides, look at the bright side. Now, you definitely get all the strawberry ice cream.”

“That is true,” Patrick agreed. 

Jonny rubbed at the chill that had started to cling to Patrick’s arms. 

“Why don’t you go put some of those away and get yourself a spoon? I’m thinking that I wanna taste the strawberry out of your mouth later.”

“You’re disgusting,” Patrick told him, but Jonny could feel Patrick’s lips turning up against the skin on his bicep. 

“Go,” Jonny told him after placing a quick kiss to his temple. 

Patrick came back with one of the strawberry pints in hand and settled back into Jonny’s side like before the ice cream had arrived. As they watched the movie, Patrick ate his ice cream, letting little moans escape around his spoon, so enthralled with it all. Jonny stole a few kisses here and there to try to understand a little better why Patrick thought two pints was necessary. He wasn’t sure if it was Patrick or the ice cream that tasted so sweet, but Jonny agreed that two had been the right call. 

Before long, Jonny was being woken up by Patrick, attempting to quietly pull away from Jonny. Jonny, dazed, realized he must have fallen asleep. 

Patrick was turning off the tv, fixing things on the coffee table, and picking up his phone to leave. In Jonny’s sleepy state, he couldn’t understand why Patrick was leaving him. 

“Where are you going?” Jonny mumbled, hand reaching out in an attempt to try to stop his departure. 

“We’re leaving at like six in the morning for the next stop. I have to get back before I fall asleep here and miss the bus.” 

“Fuck the bus,” Jonny said unintelligibly. 

Patrick laughed, “Agreed, but I still gotta go.” 

“You’ll call, yeah?” Jonny asked, his sleep muddled brain suddenly gripped by the terror that this might be the last time he ever sees Patrick. 

Patrick gave him an indulgent smile and said, “Yeah Jonny, I’ll call.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Originally I was thinking this would be 10 chapters, now it’s looking closer to 12-15. I just can’t get enough of these two. <3 
> 
> Thanks for all of the kudos + comments! Think you know what’s going to happen next? Let me know!


	9. Sweet Baby Jeff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonny’s phone is blowing up with calls and texts from everyone but Patrick, and Jonny doesn’t know how he feels about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor note: I am 100% ignoring the official 2019-2020 schedule and just letting them play whatever teams whenever I want. Just a heads up if things looked inconsistent with reality! Also, obvi this is already an AU with the whole Patrick is a singer thing, but also in this AU covid doesn’t exist and won’t affect them finishing the season in early April.

Jonny woke up to a pounding headache and his body aching in about seven different places. He groaned up at the ceiling, taking in the living room fan instead of his bedroom’s. He blinked. What? No wonder he felt like such shit. He’s way too old to be sleeping on the couch when his own bed is only a few rooms away. 

Before he could process why the fuck he slept in his living room, he grabbed his phone, since notifications were going off every few seconds. 

What the hell? The first thing he saw was a text from Brent. 

Brent Seabrook: Did Patrick wear you out last night? Because that’s the only reason I can think of for you not showing up to practice today. 

What the fuck? There’s no way. Jonny frantically locked his phone so the time could reflect in big obvious numbers back at him. It was fucking 12:43PM. Way past the start of practice, and way later than Jonny had slept in in years, maybe ever. 

He groaned again and brought his hands up to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes. But that only made him feel worse, because his left eye felt like it had its own heartbeat. Irritated and confused by how badly he could have fucked this up with practice, and now feeling pretty fucking hurt, he opened his front camera to look at his eye. 

High sticking, fist flying, blood spilling, it was all coming back to him. Everything with Manning, his talk with McDavid, and spending the night (or most of it) with Patrick. That’s why his sleepy ass was still on the couch, he’d fallen asleep watching that dumb ass kids’ movie that Patrick had put on. 

Fuck. 

Jonny needed to figure out his shit, and fast, because he had 73 unread texts, 16 missed calls, and way too many emails to count. Thank God he’d turned off push notifications for his social media, because he was already overwhelmed and knew he couldn’t even begin to think about that. Before doing anything though, he knew he needed to text Brent back, because knowing him, he was actually red alert worried about Jonny and would be showing up at his house soon on his way home from practice. 

Jonny: Shit Brent. I just woke up. I must have forgotten to turn on my alarms last night. What did you tell Colliton? Am I fucked or what? 

Jonny didn’t have to wait long for a reply, he already saw the three dots popping up telling him that Brent was texting back. 

Brent Seabrook: Don’t worry, everything’s fine. I told them you called me this morning and were feeling too sore and too emotionally drained to come in today. They ate it up. Didn’t want to ask too many questions, some respecting your privacy BS. They told the media it was a maintenance day for you. Again, no one really wanted to question it. 

Jonny: Thank fuck. You’re the best. 

Brent Seabrook: Telling me things I already know bud. 

Brent Seabrook: So, have a crazy night with Patrick or what? 

Jonny: None of your business Seabs. Seriously. 

Brent Seabrook: And?

Jonny huffed out a breath. Brent didn’t give a single fuck what Jonny told him about privacy and boundaries (though he respected Jonny’s when it truly mattered), he always wanted to know everything about his newest boyfriend. 

Jonny: You’re ridiculous. It was a quiet night in. Nothing too crazy. Kept it pretty PG. I think the bruises really freaked him out. 

Brent Seabrook: Shit yeah. Everybody likes tough guys until they have to see the aftermath. I get it though. It’s hard to see people like that. 

Jonny: Yeah, it wasn’t like he was walking out because of it. He just seemed really worried. 

Brent Seabrook: Gotcha. Did he spend the night? Is he making breakfast rn? 

Jonny: If he was still here, he’d be making lunch. He left last night. They had to leave early this morning. 

Brent Seabrook: Oh. Already gone?

Jonny: Already gone. 

After his text exchange with Brent, Jonny started in on his first plan of attack for the day. First, things first, he needed to wake the fuck up. He gingerly made his way to his bedroom, shooting longing looks to his bed as he went, and went into his ensuite. He showered, the scalding hot water doing its job and waking him up. It also allowed him to check out the damage from the fight. He could see the bruises Patrick had traced over last night, and some smaller ones on his arms starting to rise to the surface as well. 

Next was coffee, and then he was officially as awake as he could possibly be for the day. 

Second on his list was checking all his texts and missed calls. 

He skimmed over the calls first, knowing those were probably more urgent. Seabrook, Keith, and Strome had all called him this morning around the time practice was supposed to start. Seabs had called many times throughout the morning as well, probably hoping that Jonny would be woken up by one of them. His parents had called too. Probably wanting to personally check to make sure he was okay. The most important call was from his agent. Fuck. Jonny didn’t even think to reach out last night. 

Jonny called him immediately, and they went over all the details of what happened, again, and then they talked through his post game press as well. Everything seemed fine, and honestly, he really just wanted to be kept in the loop. Jonny promised he could do that and promised he wouldn’t say anything directly negative about Manning specifically in the press. Especially nothing about what Jonny thought was an appropriate suspension or fine for the DPS to hand out. Jonny agreed to it all, knowing that it was the best, safest route to go. Besides, he’d said his peace already. 

Next, he went to his messages. He’d already received more just in the short time he’d checked his calls. It was insane. 

Alex DeBrincat: Where the fuck are you? 

Alex DeBrincat: dude

Duncan Keith: You’re scaring Seabs again. You better not have been murdered. 

David: Our parents called you and you didn’t answer. I told them you were probably at practice and that you were fine. Call them when you get the chance. 

Alex DeBrincat: J

Alex DeBrincat: O

TJ Oshie: I know it’s not the right time, but Jon. I think that might be the first fight you’ve ever won. You were fucking giving it to him man. I think I’ve watched the fight over ten times by now. It gets better every time. In all seriousness, I hope you’re okay. You know I’ll hop on the next plane, games be damned, if you need me there. 

Alex DeBrincat: N

Alex DeBrincat: Call me, you’re freaking me out. 

Brock Boeser: Hey Jonny, hope you’re doing okay. Me and Petey here. Just wanted to let you know we support you. We couldn’t believe it when we heard about it after first intermission last night. It’s fucked up. I hope his ass gets shipped back down to the AHL. If you need anything don’t hesitate to reach out. Also, dinner on us next time you’re in Vancouver. 

Auston Matthews: I’m pretty sure Mitch just went off on the media post practice defending your honor or some shit. So I’d look out for that. Btw we all support you over here in Toronto Toews. 

Jonny made a mental note to check out Mitch, and any other, interviews that mentioned him, but continued to read on. 

Dylan Strome: Dumb ass. You are freaking us out. I know you’re probably hungover sleeping in but TEXT US BACK

Nolan Patrick: Bud. That fight was fucking dirty Jonny and I loved it. Sorry for all that shit man, but glad you got a few good punches in. He was a bloody bitch when they dragged him off. Good riddance. 

Jeremy Colliton: Take it easy, Jon. Brent let us know about your status for the day. If you think you won’t be able to play tomorrow, please let us know. 

JT Compher: Hey, man. I heard what happened. I support you 100%. If you need anything just say the word. 

Tyson Jost: Can’t believe it. I’m so glad you’re okay!!!! Please reach out to me or JT for ANYTHING. 

There were so many messages from so many people it was hard to keep track. NHL players, family members, friends from Winnipeg, everyone was voicing their support, everyone positive. A lot of them ready to kick some ass. Most strangely of all though, Crosby, straight or the most closeted self denying man in existence, texted him voicing his support. 

Sidney Crosby: Hey, Toews. I heard about what happened with Manning. You made the right call, reporting him. I hope the DPS does their jobs and suspends him. After their ruling, text me if you think we need to go to the NHLPA and try to appeal it. I’m serious. It’s time to hold the league and Manning accountable, and if the DPS won’t, I’ll make damn sure they do. I support you a hundred percent. If there’s a problem, please don’t hesitate to reach out. 

Jonny was kind of blown away. Players from basically every team were reaching out. Rookies to the top players in the league were letting their opinions know and showing their unwavering support all in his text messages.

The only thing though, that he noticed that was kind of off, was that he didn’t have any texts from Patrick. Not one. Jonny didn’t want to focus on that too much though, since Patrick was probably just busy -busy sitting in a bus?- and they’d literally just seen each other last night. It was more than normal that Patrick hadn’t texted him. He didn’t have to text Jonny every second of every day. So, instead of freaking out over nothing, Jonny texted the CHI boys back, telling them he was alive, and sent thank yous to everyone else. 

Remembering Auston’s mention of Marner’s interview, he opened up twitter next, and started hunting through his mentions for post game and post practice interviews. Almost immediately Mitch’s face was staring back at him over and over and over as he scrolled through. He also saw TK’s but decided to watch Mitch’s first. 

Mitch was standing in his stall, face red and hair damp, as he listened intently to one of the reporters ask him what his take on Jonny’s fight was from the previous night. Before the reporter had a chance to even finish asking his question, Mitch was running a hand through his hair in a huff and interrupting him. 

“That’s what Jonny does. He stands up for all of us, still after all these years. You think he wants to do that? You think he likes doing that? Likes telling all of us he's being discriminated against, again, because of his sexuality. Don’t you think he’s tired? I’m *BEEP* tired of it all.

“I don’t know what I would have done in that situation, because, clearly, if I had tried to fight him, he would have kicked my *BEEP*. We need more players in this league like Jonny, who are going to make the hard decisions and report people, even when it’s not easy. Actually, you know what? We need to be playing in a league where no one would even be considering acting this way, saying these things, to a fellow player. It’s not our responsibility to make this league a fair one. That’s on the NHL. 

“And if anyone says that Jonny made this up, well then maybe I will have to try my hand at fighting, even if I get my *BEEP* kicked.” 

And then Mitch walked off. Like, literally walked away from the reporters who had all been crowded around his stall. Jonny was impressed. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Mitch that angry about anything. He definitely didn’t think he’d heard him cuss. He decided to text Mitch to let him know he’d seen the interview, and that it had his seal of approval. 

Jonny: Caught your interview today! I appreciate what you said. Next time I’m in Toronto or you’re in Chicago I’ll have to give you a few fighting tips. With Martin and Kadri gone, I guess you’ll be the one stepping up to the plate. Besides, you’re faster than the rest of us, so you just got to make sure you get the first hit in. 

Next, Jonny pulled up Konecny’s interview. It pretty much started the exact same way Marner’s had, with one reporter asking him what he thought of the incident. Jonny thought it was a little unfair they seemed to be asking only known LGBTQ+ players what they thought about it and not any of the straight players, like it didn’t affect anyone but those in the community. Jonny tried to let that slide though and listened to TK’s answer. 

Travis, visibly shaking and looking like he was about to kill, apparently didn’t believe in watching his words.

“We play them in two weeks. If he's still on the team then, he should know I’m coming for him. This might have started with Jonny, but I’ll end it. I’m going to *BEEP* him up. That’s a promise. If he thinks he can come near me without consequence he should think again.” 

Jonny: I thought you were going to rip that reporter's throat out. Thanks for the kind words. Hopefully he won’t be playing up here by the time you play them in a few weeks. Save yourself the effort and all that.

Jonny continued to scroll through his mentions, players and official team accounts tweeting out their support, fans both loving and ripping on Jonny for the fight and everything that came after, and another video, this time from New York. 

Tito, looking just about done with the world and everyone in it, had simply said, “He has no place in the league. It’s as simple as that and that’s all I have to say about it.” 

God. It wasn’t enough that Jonny had to deal with all of this, but now every out NHL player was being drilled about it too. It just went to show how Manning’s actions affected more than just Jonny, that they affected other players, and fans, in big and small ways. And because of that, Jonny really hoped that the DPS would do their job, and that if they didn’t, the Oilers would just save them all the trouble and send him down for good. Or put him on waivers. Or just fucking terminate his contract. He was a shit player and bad for business with all the negative press he was drumming up for them. Might as well try to get ahead of it and deal with it inhouse anyway. 

Before Jonny could even check his email, he was getting an income call from Cat. 

“Jonny, glad to know you’re alive. Now to make up for being such a dick and scaring us to death, you’re coming to lunch with me and Dyls. We want the scoop about your date with Patrick. And we expect details.”

“DeBrincat, I-”

“I honestly don’t care what you were going to say. Dyls just texted you an address. Met us in twenty.” 

Cat hung up before Jonny could get in another word. 

So, okay. Lunch then, he guessed. 

“You look like shit,” is how Cat greets him when he gets to their table. 

“Thanks,” Jonny answered with an eye roll. 

“What Alex meant to say was that he’s glad you’re okay and that he’s glad you joined us for lunch, right babe?” Dylan said. 

Alex mumbled something, but Jonny took that as an affirmative. 

Dylan huffed and continued, “You’re just mad because you were so worried. He slept in, Jesus, he’s fine. Now stop being dramatic and let’s have lunch.” 

“Fine,” Alex said, glaring one last time at Jonny before he rolled his shoulders back and started in again in an almost too friendly voice. “How was your night Jonny? Did you sleep good?”

“Alex,” Dylan warned. 

“What? I’m just asking.” 

Jonny was glad they were working this out between themselves because Jonny did not have the energy to participate himself. Instead, he ignored any lingering attitude on Cat’s part and told him that he slept well, but that he’d fallen asleep on the couch which had really fucked with his back. 

“That’s because you’re old, Jon.” Cat said, smirking, seemingly done with pouting over Jonny’s lack of attendance at today’s practice. 

“Whatever,” Jonny told him, but there was no heat in it. 

“So, tell us how things went with Patrick,” Dylan prompted. 

“Yeah! What’s the deal? Are you boyfriends now?” 

‘Boyfriends’ Jonny mouthed and gave a small laugh. 

“Are you both in seventh grade? No, we aren’t boyfriends. We met like three days ago and have gone on two dates. He isn’t changing his relationship status to ‘taken’ just yet.” 

“Well, then what are you?” Dylan asked, confused. 

They were hopeless, Jonny knew that, but they were also maybe sort of on to something. Jonny didn’t know what they were. Could he just tell them that? 

“I don’t really know,” Jonny confessed, having decided on honesty. “I haven’t heard from him today.”

Simultaneously, they flicked their eyes down toward their phones and then back up at Jonny. 

“It’s almost four, what do you mean you haven’t heard from him?” Alex asked. 

Jonny just shrugged. He didn’t know. He didn’t want to make it into something if it was nothing. It was probably nothing. Better to just wait Patrick out. 

“You have crazy chemistry, Jonny. I don't see Pat just hitting and quitting.” 

Jonny cringed internally. Alex was probably just trying to be reassuring, but that… was not that.

“Please never say that in front of me again. Or anyone.” Jonny broke eye contact then, and found the tabletop to be suddenly very interesting when he said, “He didn’t even hit this, so that wouldn’t even apply.” 

“Dude,” Dylan said, serious. “You’re letting it slip right through your fingers. What the fuck is wrong with you? Two attractive guys who clearly wouldn’t mind fucking each other’s brains out and what? You fell asleep on the couch? You’re hopeless.” 

“Jesus, Stromer, keep your voice down,” Jonny hissed.

“And nothing’s wrong with me,” Jonny defended. “You might not have noticed, but yesterday was kind of exhausting for me. Maybe I didn’t want to rush into something half assed.”

“Yeah, yeah you’re right. Sorry, Jon,” Dylan said. 

“Don’t worry Jonny, I’m sure Pat will text you soon. He’s definitely interested. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about anything like ghosting happening to you,” Cat told him. 

While he appreciated their conviction that this wasn’t a one (or two) time thing, their constant questions only made him feel more and more concerned that he hadn’t heard from Patrick at all. 

If Patrick ghosted him, he didn’t think he’d ever recover. 

Jonny didn’t have to worry though, because, before he even pulled into his parking garage, he had gotten a text from Patrick. Jonny wanted to kick himself for getting as worked up about Patrick texting him as a teenage girl did about her first high school crush, but he couldn’t find the time when he was all too preoccupied with reading Patrick’s text.

Pop Punk Pat: Beach or mountains? 

That was… not what Jonny expected. Maybe something about making it to the next stop or something about last night. Nothing about his radio silence for, Jonny checked his phone, for over 17 hours. Maybe Jonny keeping track of those hours said more about him than about Patrick though, so he didn’t think on that too much. Instead, he made his way up to his apartment and got comfortable on the couch before responding. 

Jonny: Huh?

Pop Punk Pat: It’s a get to know you game Jon. Obviously. You pick which of two choices you like better, thus revealing something about yourself. 

Jonny: Thus?

Pop Punk Pat: *Middle finger emoji*

Pop Punk Pat: Plus, I already know a lot about you. Let’s assume I’ve read through your wikipedia a few times and been an avid subscriber of BHTV. And watched the Olympics. Seen the playoff runs. Know there’s a fucking lake with your name on it. So I kinda want to find out something I’d need to go straight to the source for. 

Jonny: Both. For different reasons. Next?

Pop Punk Pat: Aren’t you going to ask me what I would pick? *Sad face emoji*

Jonny: Nope. I already know you’d pick the beach. Next? 

Pop Punk Pat: Asshole. 

Pop Punk Pat: You’re right though. Summer of winter?

Jonny: Winter. Something to do with some sport I make a living off of. 

Patrick: Basketball?

Jonny: Close. So close. Next? 

Pop Punk Pat: Still not gonna ask?

Jonny: Summer. You picked the beach and most people go to the beach when it’s warm out. 

Pop Punk Pat: Okayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy Jonny. We get it. You’re smart. You know things. 

Pop Punk Pat: Hulu or Netflix?

Jonny: Amazon prime. 

Pop Punk Pat: You’re doing this only to hurt me. 

Jonny: What about you? 

Pop Punk Pat: Netflix, obvi. 

Pop Punk Pat: Toby McGuire, Andrew Garfield, or Tom Holland? 

Jonny: Miles Morales

Pop Punk Pat: Fair and accurate. 

Pop Punk Pat: Would you rather stay in or go out?

Jonny: Stay in. You?

Pop Punk Pat: A few years ago I def would have said go out but now I’m leaning the other way. You can still catch me at the club every now and then tho. I’m a fucking GREAT dancer. And I don’t want to deprive the world of that. But I’m also kind of tired like all the time and really like sleep. So staying in sounds good most of the time. 

Jonny didn’t even want to picture the god awful dance moves Patrick had. He didn’t even want to consider the idea that he might actually be a good dancer, because thinking about what his hips could do would only lead him down one road. 

Jonny: Glad you aren’t holding out on us. I’m pretty sure the world would stop spinning if you did. 

Pop Punk Pat: Work Hard or Play Hard? *Smirk emoji*

Jonny: That’s the same thing. Both. 

Pop Punk Pat: So literal Jonny. I’ll let it slide though. 

They went on like that for the next few hours before Patrick actually had to do his job and go on stage and perform. It was nice, just texting someone to get to know them. There was no expectations or pressure involved. Jonny hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this. But now that he had it back, he wasn’t letting it get away from him again. 

The rest of the night passed slowly, with the tv running in the background, while Jonny responded to all the emails and texts that were still flooding in. 

Jonny made sure to actually fall asleep in his own bed that night, not having realized a few days before that that would be seen as an achievement. He drifted off much earlier than usual, partly drowsy from the painkillers, and just exhausted from everything that was yesterday. 

Jonny woke up to his alarm much earlier than expected. His phone was blaring, and in his disoriented state, he couldn’t figure out why it was still so dark outside. He didn’t think it was going to rain. Even if it was, it wouldn’t be this _dark_. Confused, he went to shut off his alarm for a few more minutes and rolled back over. 

With eyes already shut, and sleep only a breath or two away, Jonny paused. He heard something, or someone, in the apartment. Something that wasn’t supposed to be there. As his skin crawled, Jonny brushed the sleep from his eyes and went to investigate. As he grabbed his phone to turn on his flashlight, he noticed he was on a call. 

What the fuck? 

Tyson Barrie’s name was looking back at him, along with the time, tiny at the top, telling him it was a little past half past one in the morning. 

No wonder it was so fucking dark. 

Jonny, annoyed at himself, Tyson, and this whole situation, sat back against his bed frame and put his phone on speaker.

“-just can’t believe it. It’s really just, can’t they ever give us a break? This is exactly why I didn’t want to say anything for so long. And yeah, people _had_ said stuff before I’d come out, but it was always unfounded and easier to brush off. I knew they didn’t suspect anything. Not _really_. Now though, it’s been… well… actually it’s been better. Because when I wasn’t gay they could tease me about it because they weren’t serious, but now really no one does. No one actually wants to be offensive. Huh. I hadn’t thought of that… But still, I just think this whole situation was just waiting to happen. I-” Tyson broke off from his monologue, probably finally realizing Jonny hadn’t said one word. 

“Are you even listening to me, Jonny?” Tyson asked with an abundance of attitude. 

“Why the fuck are you calling me so late?” Jonny asked him, still mildly irritated. 

“Oh!” Tyson paused before continuing, “I hadn’t realized it was so late.”

“It’s even later your time, how did you not realize it’s almost three in the morning?”

“Because I was waiting for Gabe to call. He usually does in the morning,” Tyson told him very matter of fact. Jonny didn’t know if he should even question it. Who Gabe was, or why 3AM was considered morning for them. He knew if he asked it would lead to another ten minutes on the phone, when Jonny just wanted to fucking sleep. But Tyson had called him because he cared about him, was clearly worried enough about the Manning situation to call, and Jonny wanted to show that he appreciated it. Even if he did have bad timing. So, Jonny took a big breath and released all his irritation at being woken up. 

“Who’s Gabe?” 

“Always got a big mouth, don’t I?” Tyson chuckled. “I don’t even realize half the shit I say, you know? Actually, you definitely do know that and everyone who’s heard of that infamous interview with Mitchy does too.”

“So, Gabe?” Jonny prompted before he could tell Jonny every memorable interview he’d ever given. 

“Gabe! Yes! He’s this guy Willy set me up with. Apparently, they met back in Sweden. Run in the same circles or met at a club and hit it off or something. I can’t remember. Anyways, he’s like a Swedish God. He’s a model. Like. _Literally_ a model. Jon, you should see. He’s incredible. He’s so tan. And his body is just. And his HAIR. It’s unbelievable. He’s incredible. I’ll send you a pic. You _have_ to see.”

“Okay, I get it. Some dude is hot. What does this have to do with you waiting for his call. Tys. Have you ever even talked to this person before? Please tell me you haven’t been waiting by the phone every night for some random hot guy Willy knows to give you a chance.” 

“I’m offended you think that’s something I’d do. Just hold on, I’ll get there. So, _as I was saying_ , Willy set me up with him. Gabe was in Toronto for a photo shoot, because that’s something he does, and he came to one of our games to see Willy. We just kind of hit it off. We’ve been doing this long distance thing since, but it’s hell with the time zones.”

“I can imagine that.”

“Yeah, but it’s so worth it. He makes me laugh like no one else. He even laughs at my jokes, which I assure you, is rare. He’s always putting me in my place. You’d love him. He’s really the whole… Hang on, I think Gabe’s calling me.” 

Jonny waited patiently while he heard Tyson banging around on his phone. 

“Sorry, I’ll call him back. But, yeah. It’s great.”

“Well he sounds pretty perfect, especially if he thinks you’re funny.” 

“Hey!”

“But you can call him back. I’m gonna go back to sleep like how most people still sleep at night. Thanks for reaching out, Tys.” 

“No problem Jonny. Call me any time! I know I kind of got distracted with the whole Gabe thing, but I really am thinking about you. I can kick some ass if you need me to.” 

Jonny laughed, good naturedly, before telling Tyson to save his strength. 

“Keep me updated on Gabe.” 

“Will do, Jon! Next time you’ll have to tell me about your new boo, ehh? I’ve been hearing rumblings…”

“Goodbye Tyson.”

Jonny could hear Tyson’s bright laugh over the speakers before he said, “Goodbye Jonny!”

The next day, Jonny woke up to find a picture of Gabe from Tyson, who looked actually as good as Tyson had described, and a text from Patrick. 

Punk Pop Pat: True crime: podcast or docuseries? 

Jonny: Podcast, so I can listen on the plane. You?

Punk Pop Pat: Docuseries. I’m more of a visual person. I can’t really listen to podcasts because I get distracted. 

Jonny: Does that even make sense? Since you make music for a living. 

Punk Pop Pat: That’s different, Jonny. Obviously. 

Jonny: Obviously. 

The rest of the morning carried on pretty much the same way until he got to morning skate, which he showed up to a full thirty minutes early to. Every time one of the guys came into the room he took some light ribbing, but he could tell they were just glad to see him there. Skate went well, they skated hard but didn’t over do it. They were looking good, and Jonny knew they had a solid chance against the Sabres. 

Since Jonny was back in action today, he was expecting the crowd of reporters by his stall following practice, but he wasn’t expecting their questions. 

“How do you feel about the DPS ruling?” 

Jonny flinched back in surprise. He hadn’t even known that it had already taken place. 

“I wasn’t aware that a decision had been made. Been a little busy guys.” 

The reporters looked around, no one wanting to be the one to break the news to him, before Mark Lazerus told him. 

“Manning got five games.” 

Five games? Five games was, “Wow.” 

The reporters all nodded. 

“What do you think about that?” Mark asked. 

Jonny cleared his throat before replying. “I think they know what they’re doing, and I support their ruling. Ultimately, it was out of my hands at this point, but I’m glad it turned out this way. It’s a message to everyone currently playing in the league, and those who dream of joining it, that your actions have consequences and that this type of behavior is unacceptable. In my mind I thought that was already clear, but we know it wasn’t to everyone. Now it is.” 

***

Everyone was high off the win and ready to go out. The music was loud in the locker room and Cat was bouncing around to everyone’s stall and asking where they wanted to go, if they should just get dinner or just get drinks. Jonny could feel the buzz in the room, and it was something he hadn’t felt in a long time. At least this season. Two wins in a row at home and they’d just swept Buffalo. Jonny kind of just wanted to scream he was so thrilled things were finally looking up, not that he wanted to jinx it, but he felt like this time they really were. 

“You’re coming tonight, right Jonny?” Cat asked him. He said it in a way that was less asking and more telling though. 

“Where are we going? We have the flight tomorrow, and I don’t want to be out all night taking care of your drunk asses and having to drag you home at three.” 

“You’re no fun. But no Jonny, we’re just doing dinner. Come one! Everyone’s basically going.” 

“Is Seabs and Keith?”

Cat shot him daggers before saying, “You know they have kids! No. That doesn’t mean you get to opt out.” 

“Hmmmm,” Jonny hummed in consideration. “I’ll think about it.”

“That means no,” Cat pouted. 

“I’ll think about it! Like 80% a yes right now,” Jonny promised. 

“Okay,” Cat grinned. “Walk out with me?” 

“Sure.” 

That’s where Jonny was, walking out to the parking lot with DeBrincat, when he spotted Jeff Skinner. Skinner looked a lot like McDavid had, simultaneously hiding in the shadows but also on a mission. Skinner though, didn’t look like he was going to flee any second and wasn’t shaking like a leaf. Jonny knew that Skinner must have been waiting for him, because the second he spotted him his face grew even more determined. 

“Hey, Skinner, did the bus leave you behind?”

“No, no.” He shook his head. “I told them to go on without me.” 

Jonny could feel Cat staring at him, trying to parse out what was happening, but Jonny didn’t have the answers for him. 

“Because?” Jonny prompted. 

Jeff’s eyes flickered to DeBrincat’s briefly before he said, “I thought we could go to dinner. For old times’ sake.” 

Jonny didn’t really know what to say to that. He and Jeff were not close. At all. He’d probably run into him a handful of times in the off season, maybe a few times at an All Star Game, but they weren’t close. Jonny couldn’t recall one time they’d gone out to dinner together just them or had a conversation that lasted longer than five minutes.

He knew he must want to tell him something though, or at the very least just talk. Maybe DeBrincat was making him more cryptic or maybe he always just talked like that. Either way Jonny knew he was going to go. Even though he didn’t know Skinner well, he knew he was a good person. He wasn’t just going to refuse. 

“Right. Of course.” Jonny assured him. 

Cat whined, just the tiniest bit, before walking away in a huff. Such a drama queen. 

“See you tomorrow!” Jonny called after him. Cat waved without turning back to face him. 

Jonny knew Cat was annoyed, but wasn’t actually that upset. He turned back to Jeff and asked, “So, my car?” 

*** 

The hostess had just dropped down their menus and walked away when Jonny fixed Jeff with a stare. 

“So,” Jonny mused, “Dinner?” 

Jeff cleared his throat. “I just, I really wanted to talk to you. I obviously know about what happened. You know. I saw the video of that fight with Manning and the news of the suspension and everything else. I really just wanted to check on you, and. Well. Thank you.” 

“Thank me?” Jonny asked him. 

Before Jeff could respond though, their waiter came by and took their drink orders. Jonny was starting to think tonight’s conversation called for whisky rather than wine and ordered with that in mind. 

Jonny was flipping through the menu and wondering if he _really_ needed a steak tonight when Jeff answered him. 

“For reporting him. People like that don’t belong in our league. And I feel like there are a lot of them in the league. They just don’t do anything as blatant and just, bat shit crazy bold as Manning did. Anytime we can get one of them out, we’re better off.” 

“Oh. Well.” That was a lot to unpack. Did Jeff know someone like Manning? Or had something happened to him specifically? Jonny was a little taken aback. One thing though, hadn’t really surprised him. He had once, a long time ago, seen someone who looked suspiciously like Jeff and Eric Staal making out in the car park in North Carolina. Of course, Jonny hadn’t been sure, with Maybe Eric having backed Maybe Jeff back against the tinted windows of one of the parked cars and Maybe Eric’s huge hands cradling Maybe Jeff’s face so that his face was almost completely obscured. Jonny had never asked, had never said anything or thought about reaching out. It wasn’t his business, and besides, he’d never even heard whispers about the two of them. But now, Jonny was thinking that Maybe Jeff and Maybe Eric were just Jeff and Eric. 

“I was just doing what I thought was right. I probably shouldn’t have lost my cool like that, but it’s not like I regret punching a guy like that in the face.” Jeff laughed, interrupting him before he switched gears. “But has something happened? To you? Because if it has, you can tell me. We can work this out.” 

“Oh, no I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant-”

Just then the waiter popped back up with their drinks and was asking for their orders. 

“Are you ready?” Jonny asked Jeff.

“I will be, you go first while I pick something.” 

Jonny just nodded and told the waiter which steak he was going to get -he had already decided he needed it- and then Jeff ordered. Once the waiter had finished writing it down, and had left them blessedly alone, Jeff began again. 

“I just meant I’ve heard a lot of shit in the room and on the ice. Things people wouldn’t have said around me if they’d know who I was.” 

Jonny could feel himself leaning across the table, feeling compelled to whisper because they were in public and he felt like this was very much a private conversation. 

“You mean because your…” Jonny trailed off, not wanting to put any words in Jeff’s mouth. 

Jeff just quirked up one side of his mouth and said, “Gay. Yes, Jon. It might be a secret, but you really don’t have to whisper.” 

Jonny leaned back, feeling a little ridiculous. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were, I mean, does anyone really know? I’ve never heard anything.”

“I am so deep in the closet I don’t know if I’ll ever find my way out,” Jeff told him with a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. 

“And how is that going?” 

Jeff took a big breath before visibly shaking himself. “Hey, aren’t we here to check on you? After the week you’ve had, I mean, nothing interesting has happened to me this week. It’s not my name in the headlines or on the push notifications.” 

Jonny could spot this obvious deflection a mile away, and though he never wanted to pressure anyone into revealing anything they didn’t want to share, he felt like Jeff desperately wanted to tell him something. He just needed a push. 

“I’m fine, good even. Had my faith in humanity stripped and restored in a matter of hours and now feeling good as new.” Jonny leaned back across the table, “Now tell me about you. How’s everything going? You sure there haven't been any incidents?” 

“I’m sure, Jon. Just, it’s been hard. Playing a part 24/7. I’m putting on an act all the time. In the locker room, on the ice, even in the summers. I haven’t even told my family. I just can’t tell anyone. I’m too worried about what they’d all say or think or act and. The looks. God. I couldn't imagine the looks from everyone. Those sympathetic looks or accusing looks that seemingly make me the bad guy because I didn’t tell them earlier. I know my family would be cool with it, deep down, I know this, but everyone in our world. I’m just not so sure.” 

“You never have to act with me, Jeff,” Jonny promised. “You mentioned that even your family doesn’t know. Does anyone? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I’d say less than five people.” Jonny’s heart stopped at that admission, but Jeff just continued on, “A couple guys from Juniors, you, and Eric.” Jeff scratched the back of his neck, and with pink cheeks added, “Some other people too, put they were, ... ummmm... paid... and signed NDAs so they wouldn’t say anything.”

Wow. Jonny couldn’t even imagine the life Jeff had been living. Less than five people on the planet knew who he truly was. He was having to hide his true self all the time, and, on top of that, was constantly worrying that at any second someone would find out and break everything he’d so carefully built in an instant. Jonny knew nothing was wrong with hiring escorts or prostitutes or whatever the sex positive term was, but it sounded very lonely. The whole thing was. Jonny didn’t know if hockey was really worth all of it. 

“Jeff, are you okay?” Jeff just laughed at all of Jonny’s concern and shrugged. “That’s just how it is Jonny.” 

“I’m serious, Jeff. That sounds… like a lot.” 

Jeff’s blinding smile that hadn’t matched his eyes the whole conversation finally cracked. “Well, it’s been hard. For sure. These last few years. But I’ve finally been feeling like me again these last few months. For a long time I hadn’t, and it’s just been nice to get back to that feeling.” 

“These last few years… Because of the trade to Buffalo?” 

“Yeah. Well, not just that, that was really the final blow. It was just, after things with Eric ended -I know you know- it was really hard to move forward. Mostly because I couldn’t tell anyone why I was hurting, and it only made me feel even more alone. The one person I could talk to was the one who’d broken my heart. I couldn’t exactly go to him for guidance on how to get over him. 

“Fuck, I was so heart broken,” Jeff told him, shaking his head. 

“But you’re okay now?” Jonny hedged. 

“Yeah, I mean, with how I acted post break up in Carolina, I know why they traded me. I had become a different person. A different player. They knew it, I knew. It just couldn’t work there anymore. Not without Eric. 

“And now, I’m in Buffalo, and nobody questions anything, because no one knows how I acted before. It’s easier that way, not having to constantly see everyone’s worried glances because they know _something’s_ wrong, but they don’t know what. They got tired of asking and I got tired of refusing to tell them. Here, it’s different. I’ve been able to adjust to the new team and it’s been fine. I’m okay.” 

“So, you’re not going to tell anyone in Buffalo?” Jonny was sure of his answer, but he just wanted to check. The fact that Jeff would be completely isolated in some aspects of his life wasn’t sitting right with Jonny. 

“I don’t really see the point. Better if no one suspects anything and nobody knows. Especially with the figure skating and everything else from my past, I’d rather keep it locked down. I don’t want to wake up to a headline reading “10 Signs Jeff Skinner was Gay That We All Ignored” or some other shit like that because I trusted the wrong person. Plus, Buffalo is already terrible -honestly- and I don’t want to give the fans or the front office another reason to pin the blame on me.”

“I get that. Clearly I do,” Jonny told him, spreading his hands out in front of him, “Since I’ve seen firsthand how those things can go. But god, that must be lonely. I’m so glad you told me. You can always reach out to me. Day or night I’ll answer.” 

“I know that, Jon. Trust me, I’ve known. You don’t know how many times I’ve picked up the phone to do just that, but in the end I just couldn’t. It was never the right time. I guess tonight was.” 

“And things with Eric? I’m gathering that it ended badly, but what happened?” Jonny asked before quickly adding, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” 

Jeff, finally loosened up from Jonny breaking down all of his walls, gave Jonny his first genuine smile of the night. It was small, but true. 

“I don’t mind. It’ll probably be good to talk about it actually. Long story short we got together during my second year in Carolina, though things had been headed that way from pretty much the second that we met. Eric had been resistant at first, for the obvious reasons. The age difference. The fact that we were playing in a league with one out player,” Jeff motioned at Jonny, “And back then, things weren’t exactly sunshine and rainbows for you. He didn’t even know if he was gay. But some things just can’t be denied. 

“Being with Eric was breathtaking, exciting, excruciating, so so so loving, and ultimately, heartbreaking. When Eric was traded to New York, we just couldn’t make it work. We weren’t able to be together every day like we used to, and it’s different when you are physically in the same place. Phone calls just weren’t enough, and soon enough the phone calls stopped coming all together. By the time he was in Minnesota, it was over. 

“Sometimes love isn’t enough. Maybe when he retires… I’m not sure. Sometimes I still think about it. Honestly, I still think about him a lot. Even though it’s been years. I’ve never felt that with someone else.” 

“Have you told him?” Jonny asked. He couldn’t imagine being with someone for so long and then something outside of both of your control just takes it away in an instant. One day they’re looking across the locker room at you, and the next, you might see them in a few weeks, or a few months across the ice. It must have been devastating. 

“No. I mean, after we play each other we’ll usually grab dinner and everything for old times’ sake, but we don’t really talk about anything real. Definitely nothing about us or the past. Now that we’re in different conferences, it’s even harder. But sometimes, when he thinks I’m not looking, I notice something in his eyes when he’s looking over at me. A flicker of what I’d use to see.” 

Before Jonny could respond, their waiter was bringing out their food. They started in on their plates, silently, and Jonny got the sense that Jeff was done with the conversation. 

Jonny wasn’t surprised. Jeff had shared a lot with him. Told him things that no one else knew. Jeff trusted Jonny enough to not go spill something and create the next big headline, which Jonny was both in awe of and appreciated, but he also realized that must have been fucking tolling on Jeff. He’d be fucking exhausted if he’d just poured his guts all over the table like Jeff had. 

“So, how are you liking Buffalo? An eight year contract is telling me you must fucking love it.” 

And there it was. The first real, blinding signature Jeff smile, finally reaching his eyes, lighting up the entire restaurant. 

“It’s actually not that bad. I’d clearly been there for away games before I was traded, but I’d never given it a second thought. I obviously know what everyone says about it, but it’s really not that bad. It’s nice even. It’s close to home which is really nice. Plus, the fans are hard core, which is both good and bad. Pretty sure I almost became the mayor last year,” he said with a laugh. 

All of a sudden Jonny realized he knew one of those hard core fans Jeff was talking about. Someone who was ride or die for Buffalo, who only ever had good things to say about his city and his team, and someone who would have, without a doubt, voted for Jeff Skinner to become the next Mayor. 

“I’m really glad you’re liking it. And speaking of obsessed fans, I actually know someone who…” Jonny trailed off, cheeks growing pink. “Can I actually take a picture of you? I know that’s weird, but my, well, my Patrick is obsessed with the Sabres. He’ll die when he finds out I got dinner with you. He’d be more jealous of me getting to have dinner with _you_ , rather than you having dinner with _me_.” 

“Sure,” Jeff said, laughing good naturedly. 

Jonny snapped a picture and sent it to Patrick. 

Jonny: At dinner with this guy. Know him? 

“So,” Jeff prompted, “Who’s Patrick? You’re… what?” 

Jonny thought about it for a second, but he still didn’t really know. What were they? They’d gone on a couple dates, had been texting on and off, have some insane chemistry as Cat likes to say, but they hadn’t labeled it. Jonny didn’t even know if they were exclusive. Could you be exclusive after only a few days? Jonny didn’t know. The only thing he did know was that he’d never felt this way about anyone before. 

“My something,” Jonny settled on. “We haven’t really put a label on it. It's been kind of crazy actually. We’ve known each other less than a week but I-”

“Already hearing wedding bells?” Jeff asked, his smile only growing by the minute. Jonny didn’t know how it was possible. 

“No. Definitely not, but just-”

“Instant sparks?” Jeff suggested. 

“Yeah,” Jonny breathed out. “I can't stop thinking about him. I even -God- find myself daydreaming about what we’ll do together next time I see him, and I see things, all these little things that remind me of him that I’ll know he’ll like, and when something happens, good or bad, he’s the first person I want to tell. It’s insane,” he confessed.

“It’s the best feeling in the world. I’ve been there. I’d do anything to get it back. Better not let it slip through your fingers.”

“I won't,” Jonny promised. He couldn’t even fathom that. 

“So, he knows who you are though, right? Like, that you play hockey?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. He’s actually, you know, kind of a fan.”

“Ohh!” Jeff laughed, “Now I see.” 

Jonny rolled his eyes. “No, it’s not like that. It’s just that, he knows who I am and he’s cool with it. He sees me as a real person, not just some hockey player or celebrity figure with no emotion. He gets it.” 

“So, is he local?”

“No, he’s actually from Buffalo, which is why he’s a huge Sabres fan. And he’s a musician. He travels a lot for work, going on tours, and was actually just in Chicago, which is how we met. It’s also how he’s able to look past the celebrity aspect of dating me. He’s got enough firsthand experience.” 

“That’s awesome, and actually makes a ton of sense. What band is he in?”

“He’s the lead singer of the band Showtime, you’ll have to check them out.” Jonny felt just a little too proud getting to brag about Patrick, but no one needed to know that. 

Jeff pulled out his phone and typed away on it. 

“Just added their new album to my Listen To playlist, I’ll make sure to.” 

“God, if he knew you did, he’d probably die. He’s crazy about the team. Seriously, doesn’t care if you’re at the top of the league or dead last, he’s so far gone. The first time we met he was actually wearing a Sabres shirt, it was ridiculous,” Jonny said a little too fond. 

“Oh wow, how’d you get past that?” 

Jonny rolled his eyes; he knew his competitive side wasn’t that big of a secret. Or a secret really at all. 

“He reassured me I was his favorite.” Jonny said simply and couldn't help the cocky grin spreading over his lips. 

“I do, and desperately don’t, want to know those details,” Jeff laughed. “I’m glad, Jon.” 

After that, they talked about how their respective teams were doing -both fucking terrible of fucking course- so they didn’t dwell on it too long, and talked about who they thought really had a chance of raising the cup this year. It was a good time, and they kept it light after how the dinner had started. Jonny even made sure to drive Jeff back to the team hotel, not humoring Jeff at all when he offered to get a lyft, and he hoped that Jeff felt even just a little bit better after getting to talk tonight. 

Jonny, having showered and changed, was sprawled across his couch in the living room. As game highlights from across the league flashed at him, he checked his phone. There was, to no surprise, an avalanche of texts from Patrick. 

Pop Punk Pat: OH MY GOD

Pop Punk Pat: Sweet baby Jeff! 

Pop Punk Pat: Yes, you dumb fuck I know who Jeff Skinner is. 

Pop Punk Pat: I can’t BELIEVE you got to go to dinner with him. You’re so lucky, UGH

Pop Punk Pat: What did he order??? I just want to feel closer to him. 

Jonny: You’re fucking weird. I am not telling you what he ordered. 

Pop Punk Pat: *sad face emoji* No fair

Jonny: Not sorry. 

Pop Punk Pat: Whatever. Did you have a good dinner? I saw that you kicked their ass out there tonight!!!

Jonny: I’m not sure if winning a game 1-0 counts as kicking their ass. But yes, I did have a good time at dinner. 

Pop Punk Pat: Well don’t sound too excited about it all. Two wins in a row, that’s fucking awesome. Dinner with Skinner? Really fucking AWESOME.

Pop Punk Pat: Can we trade places??? I feel like we need to do some Freaky Friday shit for you to appreciate your life more. 

Jonny: I don’t know what that means. 

Jonny: I’m fucking thrilled we won though. It was good to catch up with Jeff too. I’m just tired. 

Pop Punk Pat: You going to bed soon? 

Jonny: I’ll probably head that way now. 

Pop Punk Pat: Call me tomorrow, Jonny. You’re a horrible texter and I want to hear your voice and hear emotion again. Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee *sad face emoji* *Red heart emoji* 

Jonny: Still in the east coast? 

Pop Punk Pat: Yes! In Boston rn. Call in the morning? Got the show tomorrow night. 

Jonny: Sure thing, Pat. Talk to you tomorrow. 

Pop Punk Pat: Can’t wait to hear your voice *Cat heart eyes emoji* 

Jonny turned off the tv then and went off to bed. He laid there though, for a long time thinking about Patrick. He kept thinking about how things fell apart between Jeff and Eric. How the distance had been too much for them, even though they’d been dating for years prior. Jonny knew, clearly, that Patrick and his relationship was much different than theirs, but it still left him wondering. Would this work out? Could they do long distance? 

Jonny didn’t even know where Patrick lived when he wasn’t touring. He assumed it was Buffalo, but he didn’t know for sure. Jonny was obviously in Chicago most of the time, and made his way to Winnipeg in the summer, for however long or short that might be. He knew Patrick liked Chicago, which was a really really good thing, but he didn’t want to be dragging Patrick along to be with him. 

The rational part of Jonny knew that they’d only been talking for a few days, that he didn’t need to be thinking ahead to the future already, but another part of him knew that he wanted this to work out. He wanted to be worried about making this work and setting up schedules for them to be together. If he had to spend half his summer in Buffalo, well, it wasn’t the end of the world. They had plenty of trainers and practice facilities there. 

Patrick made him feel things that he hadn’t felt in years, maybe ever. He didn’t want to second chance this thing away before it even really started. He needed to talk to Patrick. Jonny needed to be a fucking adult and straighten this all out. Fuck. He didn’t even know if Patrick wanted to be exclusive or if they were official or anything. They’d literally gone on two dates. Was he crazy? But the more he thought about it the more he thought that Patrick had to feel the same. Jonny was so far gone, smiling at the fridge when he noticed ice cream that only Patrick could eat gone, and he was thinking that Patrick might be feeling the same way. 

By the time he’d tossed and turned at least fifty times, he finally drifted off to sleep. Jonny dreamed of Patrick in bed with him, limbs wrapped all around him, with his soft curls tickling the underside of Jonny’s chin as they laid together, tightly intertwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got such a great response from the last chapter! Thank you so much! 
> 
> Also, I’m SO EXCITED about Seattle! Great name/logo/colors all around. I’m already getting ready to add them to the list of teams I’m obsessed with. Guess it wouldn’t be the worst if they took someone I liked in the expansion draft next summer… 
> 
> Also also, for all our playoff teams, welcome to the bubble!!! Let’s hope things go well for the boys.


	10. Blind Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick and Jonny act like grown adults and talk about their feelings over the phone.  
> Or,  
> Two idiots (who have fallen madly in love with each other way too fast) are both somehow worried the other person doesn’t like them back. They quickly realize they’re mistaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood for the chapter: Patrick singing Taylor Swift’s False God but Pat’s version is like the Ryan Hurd cover rather than Tay’s. 
> 
> *Updated tags & rating based on my outline for the rest of the fic*

“Sweetheart,” Jonny said, nuzzling against his neck.

Patrick’s eyes snapped up to Jonny’s and found that serious stare that he loved so much focused on him.

“I missed you,” Jonny said, nipping at his ear. 

“I missed you, too.”

Jonny kissed him then, a biting thing full of want. He sucked Patrick’s bottom lip between his, giving it extra attention while he pulled on his curls. Patrick just held onto Jonny’s shirt, fist clutching the bottom of its hem, as he kissed him urgently and eagerly, desperate to get any piece of Patrick he could. 

“I know, baby,” Jonny whispered into his skin, momentarily breaking from kissing all along Patrick’s jawline.

Patrick was so dizzy from the kissing that he couldn’t remember what they’d been talking about before and what Jonny knew. Patrick didn’t think it really mattered though. Jonny, here and now in front of him, was all that mattered. 

Jonny’s teeth grazed against his Adam’s apple before meeting his eyes once more. “Let me show you how much.” 

And like that, Jonny dropped to his knees, unceremoniously. Within seconds those dept hands of his were unbuttoning his pants, unzipping them and pushing them, as well as his boxer briefs, down past his thighs. 

“Jonny,” Patrick gasped. He blinked rapidly, not quite believing his eyes. Jonny was on his knees for him, and his intense stare was now being split between Patrick’s face and his dick. It made his dick twitch, that stare, and knowing Jonny was so close to getting his mouth on it. Knees suddenly feeling weak, he braced one hand on the door behind him while the other one flailed, before it finally fell to rest in Jonny’s hair. 

“Hmmm?” Jonny hummed, his lips vibrating against Patrick’s skin as he placed delicate kisses against his left thigh. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t-,” Patrick sucked in a breath before continuing, “If you don't want to.” 

“Do you not want me to?” Jonny asked, looking up through his lashes.

“No,” Patrick said, and Jonny instantly scooted back, his hands leaving Patrick’s skin cold before he could even get more than a word out.

“No,” Patrick repeated emphatically, as he finally got a grip on Jonny’s hair and pulled at it until Jonny faced him.

“No, don’t stop.” He released his death grip on Jonny’s hair and let his thumb press against the corner on Jonny’s mouth. “Keep showing me.”

Jonny smirked and then his lips resumed the trail they were previously on, slowly making their way up his thigh. 

“Jonny,” Patrick whined after long minutes came and went with Jonny peppering kisses up and down his thighs and his hips. 

“Hmmm?” Jonny hummed along his right hip bone. 

“You gotta- gotta just,” Patrick shook his head, trying to fight the fog and remember how to get words out. Had it always been this hard to talk or was it just around Jonny?

“Stop teasing, stop playing, Jonny. I need it. I need you.” 

Jonny sat back then and looked up at Patrick. His lips were already red and puffy from the kissing and Patrick couldn’t wait to see how wrecked they’d look if Jonny actually ever moved this along. Patrick couldn’t resist reaching out, his shaky fingers trembling as they traced the outline of Jonny’s pout. 

“Baby, I’m never done playing with you,” Jonny said, sucking Patrick’s thumb into his mouth.

Patrick let out a noise that he would not admit he ever made and dropped his head back against Jonny’s front door. They hadn’t even waited for Patrick to walk two feet into the condo before Jonny was trying to suck his dick. 

“Jonny,” Patrick panted up at the ceiling, pleading once more. 

Jonny released Patrick’s fingers, kissed the inside of his wrist, and then guided Patrick’s hand back into his hair. 

“I like it when you pull a little,” Jonny said, matter of fact, and then his wet hot mouth enveloped Patrick. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Patrick wasn’t sure if he was thinking it or actually saying it out loud, all he knew was that he was trying very hard not to end things before they even really started. 

His hips bucked up involuntarily and Jonny’s strong calloused hands gripped his hips and pinned him back against the door. 

“Sorry,” Patrick said, but Jonny just shook his head and took him in deeper. 

God. Patrick didn’t know if he could survive this. Jonny sucked dick like he played hockey, determined and ready to win it all. Patrick wasn’t sure what exactly Jonny was hoping to win except Patrick coming down his throat, but it didn’t really matter, Patrick would help him get there.

It was a mess of hair pulling and moans and spit and Jonny’s hot hot mouth that led to Patrick at the edge of his breaking point. 

“I’m gonna, I’m close Jonny, real close, I-” 

Jonny pulled back then, sitting back on his heels to look up at Patrick and Patrick let out an involuntary whine. Jonny cooed at him and licked at his shaft, seconds ticking by before he said, “Fuck my face to finish, okay?”

Patrick just… he felt like he was short circuiting, as Jonny’s words zipped through him. What Jonny was asking, it made his grip on Jonny’s hair falter and his mouth fall open. Taking control like that, owning Jonny like that, Patrick wasn’t prepared for the- 

“Patrick?” Jonny asked. “Fuck me baby, get what you need from me.” 

And Patrick could do that. Give Jonny what he was asking for. Give himself what he wanted so badly. 

Patrick gave a jerky nod and Jonny started teasing him again, sucking kisses along the vein on his dick and Patrick didn’t think he could take it much longer. He was already so fucking close.

“Patrick,” someone said, someone that didn’t sound like Jonny. Patrick shook his head trying to clear it. 

“Patrick, wake up,” they were telling him, and now he felt someone prodding and pushing at his arm. He ignored it in favor of watching Jonny finally getting his lips back around him. 

“Patrick.” they said, demanding his attention so Patrick finally looked away from Jonny in search of the mystery voice. He blinked and the room around him changed and shifted into something entirely different. Jonny was gone, and so was his condo. They were replaced by the tour bus and Sharpy’s amused face inches away from him.

“What the fuck?” Patrick asked, scooting back in his bunk, trying to get some space between him and Sharpy. His dick was still rock hard, precome leaking from the head, but Jonny was nowhere to be found. 

“You were dreaming. Loudly. The other guys can sleep through anything, but your moaning could wake up the dead. I was going to let you… enjoy that, but once you started chanting Jonny’s name, I couldn’t take it anymore.” 

“I was…” Patrick couldn’t finish that sentence. His face was beat red knowing that Sharpy, and who knows who else, woke up because Patrick was getting the best blow job of his life in his fucking dreams. 

“You were.” Sharpy nodded. “Sounded like a good time,” Sharpy smirked at him, laughter lighting up his eyes. “Sorry I had to cut it short.” 

Patrick looked up at the ceiling, willing his blush away and his dick to calm down. Neither was successful.

“Biggest fucking cock block,” Patrick mumbled, not meeting Sharpy’s face. 

Sharpy just laughed, long and loud, and Patrick was sure that if anyone was still sleeping they were awake now. 

“I’ll let you finish... that, but then you need to come find me because you’re buying me breakfast. You owe me.” 

Patrick mumbled affirmatives and then Sharpy was stressing that Patrick needed to shower before they got breakfast. Patrick just wanted Sharpy to leave him alone so he could finally get off, though it would be much less satisfying now without Jonny present. 

Sharpy, finally, sensed it was time to fuck off because he started walking away. But, before he got too far, Patrick, turned on his side, back toward the interior walkway, could hear Sharpy breathily chanting Jonny’s name in a voice that mimicked his own. 

“Fuck off!” Patrick called over his shoulder, and Sharpy was laughing that loud laugh of his again. 

Then, blessedly, Patrick was alone. Or as alone as one could be on a tour bus. He closed his eyes, finding Jonny on the other side of his eyelids, and wrapped his hand around his dick. 

***

“So, have a good night?” Sharpy asked him, leaning back against the booth at the diner they had stumbled upon. 

“We are _not_ talking about that,” Patrick said, purposely avoiding Sharpy’s eyes. 

“Okay, okay,” Sharpy said, holding up his hands in surrender. He was still smiling his movie star smile though, so Patrick squinted back at him skeptically. 

“How is that going by the way? You and Jonny. I mean, how is it going in real life, that is.”

Patrick kicked him underneath the table before responding.

“Shut the fuck up. God, Sharpy, let it go you perv,” Patrick said, but there was no heat in it. Sharpy just wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

“It’s going good. We’ve been texting, getting to know each other more.”

“Is it weird since you know him, well, at least know a bunch of stuff about him, but he doesn't really know you?”

“Kinda. I mean, it’s definitely different. Jonny doesn’t seem to mind though. I think he kind of likes it, that he doesn’t have to explain everything to me because I already know it. There's a kind of basic understanding already there because of that. But I don't really know him, really that well. I know his major life events, but I don’t know how he likes his breakfast. So, we’ve been getting into that sort of thing.”

“And you like what you’re learning?”

“I didn’t think it was possible to be even more in love with the guy. And the way he texts, it is so dry and so… just everything you would expect from him. He’s actually going to call this morning before he hops on the plane for their road trip.”

“Where are they going?” 

“Minnesota, then St. Louis. Then a quick stop back in Chicago before they head out to the west coast. They’re going to be on the road a lot in the next two weeks.” 

“Aren’t we all?” Sharpy mused. 

Patrick laughed, “Yes, just different coasts.” 

The waitress stopped by, dropped off their food, and they ate for a while in silence before Sharpy started back up again. 

“And you think this is serious?”

Patrick huffed, “It’s only been a few days, Sharpy.”

“I know that, but do you? You already have that look in your eye and I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

Patrick wanted to be annoyed at Sharpy, pissed that he was trying to press this when it’d barely even begun, but he knew Sharpy was right. Patrick fell quickly and he fell hard. The fact that he’d already had a crush on Jonny before they’d even met wasn’t really helping the situation. 

“I know, I know. My track record isn’t the greatest. I know I jump into things way too fast and expect way too much way too soon, but this is different. Jonny is different.” 

“How? What has he said that makes you think that? I like the guy, I do. Jon seems like a great guy, but I just don’t want you to be expecting something that isn’t going to happen. You can be a great guy and not want to dive headfirst into a serious relationship. Is this serious for him too? Have you asked him? Because we both know you aren’t looking for some kind of fling.” 

Patrick ran his hand through his curls as doubt filled him. He hadn’t explicitly asked Jonny, well, anything like this. It hadn’t seemed necessary to question their relationship. He’d just kind of assumed they were on the same page. With the way Jonny had been looking at him, and after that night on his couch, he just assumed that this was leading to something serious. But Jonny hadn’t ever said it was. Patrick hadn’t even ever said it was. But Patrick wanted it to be. He didn’t want to just be some guy Jonny texted when he was bored between games. He _couldn’t_ be that. Patrick needed more. 

“It hasn’t really come up,” Patrick mumbled as he pushed his eggs around his plate. 

“Oh, Patrick,” Sharpy said sympathetically and Patrick hated it. He hated that Sharpy was thinking it was happening to him, again, and that Patrick was such a lovesick fool he’d never be able to read the signs before it happened all over again. Patrick was tired of the assumption. 

“Stop,” Patrick snapped at him. “This isn’t Sam. Jonny isn’t sneaking behind my back with other guys. Jonny isn’t cheating on me. I’m not even Jonny’s to cheat on. We haven’t defined anything. It’s only been a few days, God. 

“Yes, I like Jonny. Yes, I’d like to be exclusive. But we aren’t to that point yet. We haven’t even had the conversation. So, I’d appreciate it if you stopped thinking the worst about him and stopped lumping him in with Sam and all the rest of them who clearly couldn’t appreciate what they had.

“I know Sharpy, trust me, I know that I’ve let guys treat me like less than shit, let them use me, excuse their bad behavior because I was so blinded by my love for them, but this is not like that. Jonny is not like that. I am not like that anymore. I’m not going to let myself be treated like that again and Jonny’s not the kind of man who would do that. So just, stop. Let me just enjoy this. Is it so impossible for you to think someone would want to actually be with me? Strings attached?”

“I’m,” Sharpy stopped, pausing before he began again. He was drinking in Patrick’s words and the sharp set of his body. “Of course, it isn’t impossible. I just care about you. I’m worried about you. I’m sorry if I made it seem like it was something more than that but.” Sharpy shook his head.

“Any guy would be lucky to be with you. I just want to make sure Jonny deserves you. I like him. He’s a great guy, talented, handsome, _clearly_ , and fucking rich which doesn’t hurt.” 

Patrick laughed softly but let Sharpy continue. “But I also know he’s been through a lot. He’s _still_ going through a lot, if this last week wasn’t evidence enough. His schedule is demanding, and he travels a lot, just like we do. I just don’t want to see you get your heart broken because he isn’t able to give you the time and care you deserve.” 

Patrick’s blush spread as he took in each and every one of Sharpy’s words. Sharpy and him have been close for the better part of a decade and Sharpy's seen firsthand how things like this usually work out for him. He appreciates more than anything how obviously Sharpy cares about him, and Patrick gets that he’s worried. More than anything Patrick wants to tell Sharpy he doesn’t need to be, but he doesn’t know that for sure. He knows Sharpy is right about this, and that what he said about Jonny is right. He knows that he needs to talk to Jonny before things get misinterpreted and Patrick’s left in the same position he’s always in. He kind of hates that Sharpy always has to be right. 

“Thanks dad,” Patrick tells him, a corner of his mouth twitching up. 

Sharpy huffs and rolls his eyes, but it’s all fond, the smile on his face tells him that. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“I’ll talk to Jonny, okay? So, stop being a mother hen and worrying about all this shit.” 

“I thought I was your dad?” Sharpy said in mock confusion. 

“You could be my _daddy_ if you wanted to,” Patrick said, in a low sleazy voice. It was a joke that never got old and never failed to embarrass Sharpy to no end. He winked at Sharpy’s frozen face before cracking up. 

Sharpy kicked at him under the table, before pointing his fork at him and saying, “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold,” like how a parent would tell their misbehaving child. Patrick, valiantly, doesn’t point that out. Instead, he smiles up at him and reaches out for his toast. 

***

Patrick hated Sharpy right about now. Like, really hated him. Patrick had planned on going for a run right when he woke up, but then _someone_ had wanted to get breakfast, so, of course, he had eaten too because it would have been rude to just sit there and watch someone eat. But now, he was running on a full stomach, slow as fuck, and two seconds away from seeing his breakfast again. 

Giving up, Patrick decided he better just walk the rest of the way if he didn’t want to make his morning even more eventful. 

They were playing at the House of Blues today, which was one of Patrick’s favorite venues to stop at. The close proximity to Fenway Park was pretty much the main reason why that was, because he loved how it made his pre-show runs a lot more exciting. He loved getting to feel the charged energy that radiated off of the historic stadium as he ran past it and today was no different. 

They hadn’t gotten to play here for a few years now, at the House of Blues, opting to do arena tours since they had grown more popular, but he missed the intimacy of the smaller venues. That’s why they were doing this tour. It was a return to their roots in a way, playing venues they used to when they were so much younger and just starting out. This tour had sold out in a couple of hours, and Crow had carefully mumbled about all the money they could have made if they just did another arena tour, but, in the end, they were all grateful that they had chosen this route. They all loved touring, loved the fans more than anything, but it could be grueling with the nonstop travel and constant pressure to perform well every night. This tour had reminded them why they do this in the first place. 

Patrick’s phone rang then, interrupting his thoughts. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw JONNY *heart eyes emoji* *red heart emoji* *black heart emoji* looking back at him. Seeing Jonny’s name with the emojis made him think that maybe Sharpy was a tiny bit right about Patrick going a little overboard with this whole thing. 

Patrick sat down on a bench, looking at the green architectural work of the stadium, before he answered the call. 

“Hey,” Patrick greeted warmly. 

“Pat,” Jonny greeted softly, and just hearing Jonny say his name was enough to make his heart melt. “It’s good to hear your voice.” 

“You stole the line right out of my mouth,” Patrick said, attempting to sound cheeky but really only sounding way too fond. 

“Is now a good time?” Jonny asked.

“Yeah, perfect actually.”

“Are you in the bus right now?” 

Patrick looked around, for some reason needing to double check that he was not in fact in the bus right now for Jonny before he answered. “No, I’m actually out on my run.”

“Oh, do you want me to call you back?” 

“No, no. Basically doing the cool down now.” 

“How’s Boston?” Jonny asked. Patrick didn’t understand why that question would make Jonny sound nervous, but Patrick detected a hint of anxious energy in his tone. 

“It’s good. Beautiful, you know? And cold as shit right about now,” Patrick laughed, rubbing his hands together, “But beautiful.”

“I bet. It feels just like home there if we stop by in the winter.” 

Patrick wasn’t sure if he was referring to Chicago or Winnipeg as home, but both could apply so Patrick didn’t ask for a clarification. 

“Yeah. I always love it here. It’s a fun city to play in.” 

“Hmmm, I don’t know if I’d say the same, but then again most of the people that come to see you don’t inherently hate you.” 

Patrick laughed, something loud and bright. It was in such contrast to the sleepy winter city around him that Patrick was sure somewhere close by someone was giving him a disapproving look for interrupting it all.

“At least they are all dedicated.”

“That is very true,” Jonny agreed. 

“Besides that, do you like coming to Boston? I mean, the city itself, do you like it?” Patrick’s cheeks heated and he scratched at his jaw, embarrassed. He sounded like an idiot in his own ears, but he was hoping Jonny didn’t think anything of his ramblings. 

“Uhh, I’m not sure,” Jonny paused on the line for a long moment. Patrick was about to respond, wanting to break the silence, when Jonny started up again. “I have fond memories there, for obvious reasons. But I haven’t really seen that much of it. Since they’re in the other conference we only go there once a year, and usually it’s part of a long northeastern trip. The days kind of blur together on those and there isn’t that much time for exploring.”

Patrick could recall a time in 2013 when Jonny and the Blackhawks spent more than a few days in Boston, but Patrick didn’t mention it, not wanting to keep reminding Jonny how much he knew about him without Jonny explicitly telling him. 

“Oh yeah, I get that. You have a job to do. I mean, we kind of are the same way. Some cities we only get to explore the four block radius that surrounds the venue and that’s just because we’re trying to find lunch. Other stops though, we have much more freedom. Much more time to appreciate where we actually are.”

“And Boston’s one of those stops?” Jonny asked.

“Sometimes. The more we’ve toured, the more kind of rest days we’ve started to build into it. In the beginning we didn’t have the time or money to try to make each stop, or any stop, a little vacation for ourselves. It was all about the show and then moving on to the next one. Now, we have a little more time to do it the way we really want.”

“That’s nice. I’ve been thinking about that a lot actually lately. How I travel a lot but don’t get to actually _see_ where I am most stops. I want to start taking advantage of it more, if possible. It’s work, like you said, not a vacation, but it’d be nice to actually see all these places we’re going and not just the best steak restaurant in downtown.”

“Or the best clubs?” Patrick asked. 

“Yes,” Jonny laughed. “That too. I think that’s the only thing I’ve seen of Boston really. After the 2013 win we saw a lot of that before we flew home that next morning. It’s not like I was out exploring the sights during that series though. I wasn’t out looking at the liberty bell or some shit like that.” 

Patrick burst out laughing at that, and Jonny had to say his name multiple times before he could calm down enough to respond. Patrick wiped his eyes with the back of his hand that wasn’t holding his phone before answering.

“Jonny,” Patrick said slowly, a grin taking hold of his mouth, “You know the liberty bell isn’t in Boston, right? That that’s in Philly?” 

Jonny was silent for a suspicious amount of time before grumbling something about how he “Doesn’t understand nor care about American history” and that “It’s all the same to him.” Patrick just laughed at him again, while ignoring the fact that he knew absolutely nothing about Canadian history besides hockey history and he wasn’t sure that really counted. 

“Anyway,” Jonny said, “I’d like to go some day. Not for hockey. Usually during the summers I’m in Winnipeg or vacationing in countries that aren’t the United States, but it might be nice to actually get to check these places out. I’d like to see Boston.”

“Maybe I could come with you, be your American guide and translate for you all this historical stuff that doesn’t make sense to your Canadian brain.” 

Patrick had a second to freak out about proposing plans for an uncertain future and how Jonny would take that before Jonny said, “Yeah, I’d like that,” all soft. 

Patrick liked the sound of that a lot. 

“So,” Jonny said, but didn’t follow it with anything. He sounded nervous again. It was a weird thing to hear, because Patrick didn’t feel like Jonny was the type. He seemed so strong in his convictions, and so decisive, that Patrick hadn’t thought nerves were something that really plagued him. 

“So,” Patrick echoed. Patrick wasn’t sure what this was about. If it was about them, or something else entirely. Patrick knew _he_ needed to bring them up but he was happy to be distracted by small talk rather than the burden of finding out answers that he might not want to know. 

“So, you’re single, right?” Jonny asked blunt. 

“Umm yes Jonny,” Patrick said with a small laugh, “I usually don’t go over to other guys’ houses on dates if I’m seeing someone.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jonny mumbled, and Patrick could picture the ever so faint color that was probably rising to his cheeks. 

“I thought that was established already, but, yes, I am single. Available. No husband. No boyfriend. No anything.”

“Just checking…” Jonny said, still mumbling. 

“Are _you_ single?” Patrick asked, just to be a dick. 

Jonny huffed, which only made Patrick’s smile widen, before answering, “Yes, Patrick.”

“Good. That’s good.” 

“Yeah, so…” Jonny trailed off again. 

“So?” Patrick prompted, wanting Jonny to be the one to use his words for once. 

“I like you. A lot. If it wasn’t obvious. And I was thinking that we should go on a date.” 

“We’ve already gone on two, Jonny,” Patrick gently reminded him. He was high off of Jonny’s confession but didn’t want to focus on that right now or he wouldn’t be able to focus on the rest of the words Jonny said on the call. 

Jonny sounded frustrated, annoyed, and a little embarrassed when he answered, “A date that doesn’t involve sitting in parking lots or pizza. A nice date. A real date.” 

“I’d like that,” Patrick said, though he hadn't minded the others. They could sit in a parking lot for every date and Patrick would love it all the same. Besides, seeing Jonny all rumbled from sleep and comfortable in his home seemed like something out of a dream, not the uneventful disappointing date Jonny was thinking it was. 

“Yeah?” Jonny breathed out hopefully. 

“Yeah. Of course. I obviously like you too, idiot. If my public declarations of love for you, before we even met, weren’t obvious enough.”

“I wasn’t sure if that had changed.” 

“Why would that? Oh.” Patrick couldn't believe that Jonny thought that he’d actually like him less after getting to know him. Patrick didn’t know in what universe that could be true. Patrick hated that that was a thought in Jonny’s head. He wanted to rectify that immediately, make Jonny understand that knowing him for even this short amount of time has made him like him that much more. 

“Umm, no Jon, that hasn’t changed. Or, I mean, it has. I like getting to know the real you. Not just stats. Or just the little glimmers I got from interviews of who you actually were. I like getting to know you as a person, for who you are, outside of all the hockey stuff. Don’t get me wrong, I really like the hockey stuff. Just thinking about some of your goals gets me a little h-” Patrick shook his head, trying to get back to his point, “But I like you. Even if there wasn’t the hockey stuff.”

“You do?” Jonny sounded so hopeful it actually hurt his heart. 

Before Patrick could respond, Jonny continued on, in a tone of voice that Patrick couldn’t parse. “You can’t know that.” 

“I can.” 

“You can’t.” 

Jonny was so fucknig stubborn, but Patrick could be too. 

“Guess I’ll just have to prove it to you then,” Patrick said, not backing down. 

“I’d like that.” Jonny said, sounding somewhat hopeful again. It was hard to read Jonny though, without getting to see his facial expressions. His voice was so monotone that Patrick felt like he was making crazy assumptions from just the tiniest inflections in his tone. He hoped he was getting it right. 

“So,” Patrick said again. This phone call seemed to live and die by that word. 

“So,” Jonny said, this time being the one to echo it. 

“I’m not sure when we’ll be in the same city again. You told me about your next two road trips, and I could easily google the Hawks’ schedule, but I don’t think we’ll be in the same place for a while. We’re really on our Northeastern wing for the next few weeks, and I know you’ll be in California next week. I’m not really sure when we’ll be able to go on that date you were mentioning.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Jonny said, sounding determined now, like he was finally reassured by Patrick’s assurances that he indeed liked him too. 

“We’ll still talk on the phone, yeah?” Jonny asked.

“For sure,” Patrick promised. 

“Good,” Jonny said, like it was final. Like that was that and there was nothing else to discuss. No other questions to answer. 

Patrick still had a lot of questions. 

“So,” Patrick said, and kind of wanted to punch himself for saying it again, but instead plowed on. “You’re going to be on the road a lot, I clearly am too. I know the road can be lonely, but I was just- I just wanted to say this is serious for me. Or I want it to be, if you want it to be.” Patrick rushed to say the last part but waited for Jonny’s response before carrying on. 

“I want it to be,” Jonny confirmed. 

“And so,” Patrick continued on, “If it’s serious, for both of us, I just wanted to put it out there that I’d like this to be an exclusive thing. Just us. Even if we don’t get to see each other for a while. Even if we’re both on the road. I’ve had some problems in the past with, just-” Patrick took a deep breath, “I’d just really like if we could focus on us and not see other people while we do that. Even if we’re just going on dates, or talking on the phone, or whatever.” 

“Why would we see other people?” Jonny asked, sounding genuinely confused. Patrick didn’t want to have to spell it out for him. 

“Like… You know, Jon. Like I said, people get lonely on the road. Sometimes they make mistakes or things just happen or things happen that don’t really mean anything, but-”

“Oh.” Jonny interrupted him. “No, that’s not a problem. That’s never been a problem for me. That’s not something you need to worry about at all, Patrick.”

“Okay,” Patrick breathed, relieved.

“Besides, I’m sure you’re more than I can handle anyways,” Jonny said, because he was an asshole. Patrick could hear the smirk he knew Jonny had on and Patrick both loved and hated it… but really just loved it.

“You’re such an ass,” Patrick said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t care if Jonny couldn’t see him.

Jonny just laughed, before sobering up again to say, “I’m really glad we had this talk.”

“Yeah, figured out our shit like we’re grown, I’m impressed.” 

Jonny snorted and said, “Yes, Patrick. Glad we could do that and act our age.” 

“Didn’t think we’d make it, honestly, especially with your slow start,” Patrick said, just to be irritating. 

Jonny just huffed in annoyance, not bothering with a reply to that.

“I have to go, places to be, planes to catch, games to win and all that.” 

“Yeah, I gotta get back for sound check soon anyway. Good luck on the road trip, Jon.”

“Good luck with the show tonight. I know you’ll be amazing.”

“Of course I will be. Good luck against Minn. Gotta watch out for Zucc.” 

“I _know_ that Patrick,” Jonny laughed, sounding both amused and annoyed when he continued, “I’ll text you tonight.” 

“Okay! Text you later.” 

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

It was silent on the line, but not in the way that said the line had been disconnected. 

“Patrick, hang up the phone.”

“You hang up, you’re supposed to hang up first. You said bye first. It’d be impolite to hang up before you.”

“You’re ridiculous. Goodbye, Patrick.” 

“Bye, Jonny.”

“This is me hanging up the phone now.”

“Okay, so do it.”

Jonny huffed, and then finally the phone went dead. 

Patrick sat back on the bench and let his phone rest beside him. He was so relieved with how everything had gone with Jonny. He closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around him, and let all of Jonny’s words soak in as he felt the icy chill of the February wind nip at his skin. 

***

“How’s it out there tonight?” Patrick asked as Ebs and Hallsy walked into the lounge backstage, dripping from sweat after their set. 

“Fucking great man. Loud as shit. I’m sure they’ll be good for ya tonight,” Ebs told him. 

“They know any of your stuff?” Sharpy asked, and Patrick couldn’t tell if he was being an ass or just genuinely curious. 

“Some,” Hallsy told him. “The last one that plays on the radio, of course. But there were a few groups up front that must have actually listened to our stuff before. They were singing all the words.” 

“Man, that’s great,” Sharpy told him, wrapping his arm around him like he didn’t care that he was getting Hallsy’s sweat all over him. Gross. But Patrick knew Sharpy was always doing this with the opening acts. No matter how old or young the band members were, Sharpy adopted them all, asking after them and making sure everything was going as smoothly as it could. They _all_ called Sharpy dad behind his back, Patrick was just the only one to say it to his face. He was the tour dad whether he admitted it or not. 

Sitting next to him on the couch, Crow was watching the game, playing on the flat screen across the way, intently. Crow took hockey almost too seriously for a fan, but Patrick just assumed that was because he grew up playing himself. Crow never said why he stopped playing, but Patrick assumed it had something to do with too many concussions from what he’d let slip in the past. 

“Come on, come on, come on, come on…” Crow muttered under his breath. Chicago was on the power play with three minutes left in the first, the score zero zero. Crow was a Habs fan but had adopted Chicago for the night on Patrick’s behalf. 

Patrick tracked the puck as it was passed from Nylander to Saad to DeBrincat back to Saad and then to Strome before making an attempt at net. The second unit was out, and it wasn’t looking like they were going to be able to produce. 

“Patrick?” Sharpy said, like it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get his attention. Patrick ripped his eyes from the tv and met Sharpy’s before glancing back at the play.

“Yeah?” Patrick asked absentmindedly. 

Sharpy moved in front of the tv then, and Crow groaned waving Sharpy off. 

“He’s listening, just move,” Crow said. 

Sharpy huffed but did so, not wanting to deal with an irritated Crow right before they went on. Patrick had learned from experience that it was best to let the drummers do as they pleased. 

“What’s going to be the cover tonight? Remember how you hadn’t picked by sound check and said you’d tell us before we went on. We kind of need to know that now, before we go out there.”

Patrick remembers saying that now, but he’d also forgotten about it the second it’d left his lips. 

“I don’t know,” Patrick said, half thinking and half trying to watch the game. “There aren’t that many bands I like from Boston, and you know how I like to cover songs from local bands.” 

“Then we won’t do one,” Sharpy told him.

“No, we have to,” Patrick said, shaking his head. “The fans expect it.” 

Sharpy rolled his eyes. “Then pick. We need to know like now.”

“Yeah, Pat,” Crow said, his eyes not leaving the screen for even a second. 

Patrick glanced around the room for Panarin, looking for some help and an out, but when he found him he saw that he was engrossed in a conversation with Hallsy and Ebs, probably making plans for when they hit the New York stop, since all of them had lived in the arena for a few years. He was on his own.

“Maybe some Taylor? I haven’t sang her in a while. Plus, she has that Rhode Island house. That sort of kind of counts.” 

“Good enough, Pat,” Sharpy said. Patrick just waved his hands, dismissing him. “I’ll just do an acoustic version of something with my guitar, don’t worry about it. Now let me watch the end of the first before we go on.”

Sharpy acted put out, but Patrick knew he wasn’t. Mostly because he came and sat on his other side, trying to catch the rest of the period while ignoring Crow’s nonstop commentary that was not quite under his breath. 

The first unit was out now, and Patrick saw Jonny weaving around all the green sweaters and making his way to the net. The Hawks were getting chance after chance, but nothing was getting through until Jonny batted a puck in midair into the net. 

Patrick was up and off the couch in less than a second, cheering and moving around the room to get his high fives like he’d just scored himself before sandwiching himself between Crow and Sharpy again. Crow was looking pleased by the score, but Sharpy was looking down right amused. 

Patrick just rolled his eyes and watched the few dying seconds click off the clock before pulling out his phone to text Jonny. He knew he wouldn’t see it until after the game, but Patrick didn’t know when he’d be on his phone next, since they were about to go on, and he wanted to let Jonny know that he’d been watching. 

Patrick: I’d say stick to hockey but you might want to give baseball a chance. 

Patrick: I don’t want you to get too cocky tho. So maybe stick to hockey. I don’t think I could handle it if you were half as good at baseball as you are at hockey. That’s too much talent for one person.

Patrick: Okay, going on now. You better keep the lead!!! 

Patrick: I’ll talk to you after? If you aren’t too tired. I’m tired just watching the first period of the second half of this back to back. 

Patrick: Seriously going on now. Good luck!!!!!!! 

Patrick slipped his phone into his back pocket as he heard the beginning noises of their introduction and the eruption of cheers that followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is coming to an end!
> 
> Sorry for all the delays going forward. Since hockey is back, I’ve been trying to catch every game I can, which means I don’t have nearly as much time as I did for writing. Very bittersweet!
> 
> Also, JONATHAN MOTHER FUCKING TOEWS AM I RIGHT?????? Thank you and goodnight Edmonton!!! If you are just as excited as I am over Jonny’s amazing play against the Oilers, I recommend reading Mark Lazerus’ article ‘It’s still Jonathan Toews’ team, and it’s still Jonathan Toews’ time’ which is about Jonny’s performance in the first game of the series.


	11. California Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, the chapter with phone sex. 
> 
> Jonny’s on the west coast. Patrick’s on the east coast. Somehow, despite the distance, they are closer than ever.

Pop Punk Pat: *Photo attachment*

Pop Punk Pat: Wish you were here. 

Jonny swiped open the messages and did a double take. 

That was. That was Patrick’s dick. Hard. On his phone. 

Jonny blinked rapidly. Patrick’s dick was still staring back at him. 

Jonny didn’t realize that was something they could do. After the necessary but painful phone call that happened last week, Jonny knew they were more than just something casual, even if they hadn’t put a specific label on it, but he hadn’t expected this. He was surprised, but definitely not mad about it. 

Jonny squinted and pulled the phone closer to his face. Patrick had such a pretty cock. He just hadn’t expected the first time he was going to see it was through a phone screen. 

Jonny tried to clear the fog from his brain as these dizzying realizations were finally setting in. 

Patrick had just sent him a dick pic. 

Patrick had _sexted_ him. _God._

“Yo Jon, what you lookin’ at?” Brent asked. Jonny whipped his head back and shoved his phone into his bag so fast he must have looked completely guilty or utterly psychotic. Jonny didn’t know what was worse. 

“Nothing,” Jonny answered, priding himself on how monotone and unbothered he sounded. 

Brent looked at him skeptically, really taking the time to study his face, before he shrugged. “Then why was your face looking all,” Brent stopped to motion at his own face, like that told Jonny anything, “All wide eyed and slack mouthed?” 

Jonny very purposely focused on changing out of his towel and into the clean clothes he packed for post practice. He did not want to face Brent right now. Not when he was still thinking about Patrick’s hand wrapped around his cock. He didn’t even want to address the heat building in his gut or how Jonny was willing his dick not to stir. 

“It wasn’t.” 

“Yes, it was.” Brent stepped closer now that Jonny was out of his towel and brushed a finger over the top of one of Jonny’s cheeks. 

“You’re blushing.”

Jonny shoved Brent aside and focused on cleaning up his stall so he could get the fuck out of here. He wanted to get as far as possible away from Staples Center. He needed to text Patrick back, but he wasn’t going to do that in the visitor’s locker room. 

“No, I’m not,” he told his wallet. 

“Okayyyyyyy Jonny.”

“I’m not.” 

“I said okay, Jon.”

Jonny finally met Brent’s face, and rolled his eyes. “I’m going back to the hotel for my nap. Try to stop obsessing over me.” 

By the time he’d gotten back to the hotel, Jonny had another message waiting for him. 

Jonny opened it and saw Patrick’s abs coated with cum and his spent dick limp on his hip. 

Pop Punk Pat: Can’t stop thinking about you.

Pop Punk Pat: Couldn’t wait. 

“Fuck,” Jonny exhaled, as he laid back on his hotel bed. He wished he was wherever Patrick was today. Touching him, and not just seeing him through a screen. 

Jonny: You’re going to kill me.

Pop Punk Pat: Now he talks. 

Jonny: I was at practice dumbass, it’s 2 PM. 

Pop Punk Pat: Your loss. 

Jonny guessed that meant he lost his window. Fuck. He was half hard and was torn between trying to start something back up and needing to get the fuck to sleep. But how could he sleep when all he could think about was what Patrick looked like right now? If Patrick’s eyelids were sliding shut, already being swept under his sleepy current, or if he was ready for another round. 

Jonny shook his head. He needed to get a grip. 

Jonny: *Middle finger emoji*

Pop Punk Pat: Wow, didn’t know you knew how to use those. *Smirking emoji* But it’s a little after 5 here. 

Jonny: Where are you today? 

Pop Punk Pat: Pittsburgh. Pretty place where there’s nothing to do besides see the pens play, but they’re on the road. *Sad face emoji* 

Jonny: I can’t think about Crosby while I’m still stuck on those dick pics. 

Jonny: God, Patrick. Those pictures. 

Jonny palmed his dick languidly, still undecided on if he should rub one out or just take a nap. 

Pop Punk Pat: *Smirking emoji* Who did you think I’d been thinking of? 

Pop Punk Pat: The ass on that man is really unparalleled.

Pop Punk Pat: No offense. 

Pop Punk Pat: But Jesus, his lips too. Are you sure he isn’t, ya know? *eyes emoji* *Rainbow flag emoji*

Jonny: I’m taking my nap now. 

Pop Punk Pat: I’ll take that as a maybe. 

Pop Punk Pat: Also good luck tonight!!!! I think we might have some dinner plans but I’ll try to catch the third. I know you’ll beat Doughty’s ass. 

Jonny: That’s for sure, baby. 

Pop Punk Pat: *Blushing emoji* Night, night 

Jonny double checked his alarms and set his phone on the nightstand. He needed to get to sleep. He wanted to be well rested and ready for the game tonight. They’d been doing so well lately, and Jonny felt like he had more than something to prove. Everything with Patrick could just wait until later. 

He turned on his side, away from the nightstand, and closed his eyes for a few minutes, but the restless energy coursing through him was preventing him from falling asleep. Jonny waited a few more minutes before groaning in frustration. He reached his arm out, patted at the nightstand, and retrieved his phone. He opened up his text exchange with Patrick and read back over their messages until he scrolled back up to the photos Patrick had sent. 

If he thought about it, really thought about it, getting off was really just to calm his restlessness, and to help him sleep. Which, in turn, would help his play tonight. If he thought about it like that, he didn’t really have an option. Jonny wasn’t being selfish; he was doing this for everyone’s benefit. 

Jonny wanted to be good, not just on the ice, but for Patrick. This way he could be for both.

***

Jonny knew he was a competitive asshole, and that everyone else pretty much knew that too. But even with this fact in mind, he still didn’t feel anything more from the win against LA than he would from any other team. It would have been easy to assume the opposite, with all the shared history between them, and maybe a few seasons ago the win would have meant just a little more, but it’d been years since they’d had a really competitive meeting, and most of the guys, on both sides, have come and went since then. It wasn’t 2014 anymore. Jonny was excited from the win, don’t get him wrong, but not overly so. He mostly just felt exhausted. 

Maybe he really was getting old. 

Or maybe it was from realizing that both of their organizations, at the top of the league for so many years, were now finding themselves at the bottom. Jonny didn’t think they were nearly as bad as LA, that they were just a few players or a few good practices away from hitting their stride, but playing LA was like seeing a version of the future Jonny didn’t want to see realized. 

Jonny shook his head. They weren’t the same, he had to remind himself. As much as Doughty and Kopitar had dominated in the past, everyone, including themselves, knew that they weren’t the players they once were. Jonny didn’t feel like that. Jonny felt like if he pushed himself hard enough, he could still reach a peak in his game that he hadn’t yet reached. Even if the media questioned his contract or posed hypothetical blockbuster trades with his name in the headlines before the trade deadline, Jonny felt secure in his place with the team. 

The realization of it all rocked him, and he could feel the self doubt that had been consuming him for longer than he wanted to admit start to fade. As much as these last few seasons had put a strain on him, and left him wondering what the hell he was even doing at some moments, he realized that they weren’t really that far off as everyone thought they were. These last few wins had proved that. Jonny knew he could lead them to the top again, that he could dominate the playoffs in such a way that the media would have to question why they had ever doubted him, and them, at all. It might not be this season, but the next was starting to look more than promising.

“Jonnyyyy,” Dylan whined, hitting his shoulder, and interrupting his train of thought. 

“Hmmmm?” Jonny hummed, looking up. More than a couple of the guys were looking at him, and he realized they’d probably been having a conversation in which Jonny was supposed to be participating. Shit.

“Back with us?” Cat asked as Dylan said, “Is he alive or what?”

“Where’d you go, Jon?” Brent asked, just to be an ass. 

Jonny huffed, and rolled his eyes. “Just thinking about something and got distracted. What’s-?”

“Is something Patrick’s dick, because I bet it is,” DeBrincat stage whispered and the guys laughed. Jonny shot him a withering glance before continuing. 

“What’s up?” Jonny asked. Clearly, they had been talking about something and had wanted Jonny’s input. 

“We’re going out for dinner,” Duncs told him plainly, not one for any bullshit, “And-”

“And you have to come since you skipped out last time to go with Skinner,” Cat finished for him. 

Seabs moved in close to wrap an arm around his shoulders, “It’s a full team thing. Team bonding and all that. It’d be nice to do it when we’re celebrating a win rather than commiserating a loss.”

Jonny couldn’t argue with that. He always thought bonding off the ice was an important part of creating a successful team and a happy locker room, but forcing all of them together to do fun activities when all they could think about was the avalanche of losses that kept tumbling down around them did little to raise team morale or foster a tight knit group.

“Besides,” Seabs continued before Jonny had time to reply, “We need to do a little rookie bonding. Give Kubalik and Dach a little more love. They’ve been playing so well, but you know how it is when you're young and just coming into the league. You can be playing well, but if your team isn’t too hot you think all that blame rests on you because you’ve made a few mistakes. They don’t realize that we're all making mistakes out there.” 

Jonny nodded. He knew exactly what Seabs was talking about, mostly because he still fell into that trap, thinking that the team won or lost on his performance alone. Even with being the captain, Jonny knew that wasn’t true, that hockey was a team sport, and that his individual play could help or hinder the team but that it wasn’t what they solely relied on. 

“Keith, you get Boqvist, since you’ve got that D pairing thing going on,” Jonny said, starting to make assignments like they were back on the ice rather than going to a relaxed team dinner. “I’ve got Kubalik, clearly, since we’ve been on the same line the last few games. Dyls you’re with Kirby, Cat with Nylander. Seabs, watch out for Highmore.”

“Yes, captain,” Seabs said, like the asshole he is, so Jonny smacked his arm off his shoulder. 

“Wouldn’t be a team dinner with Jonny if we didn’t have a game plan going in,” Seabs said. 

He heard a few of them humming in agreement, and Jonny valiantly let that slide. He didn’t see a problem with wanting to make the most out of these things. 

“So, does that mean we have to sit with them or just talk with them, because I really need to talk with Nylander about how to make this tik tok and since I’m not assigned him I was just-”

Jonny put his hand up to stop Stromer. “Please stop whatever it is you’re talking about. You don’t _have_ to do anything. Just have a conversation. Check in with them and see how they’re doing. You don’t have to dedicate your whole night to it.” 

“Ohhhh. Yeah. That makes sense,” Dylan told him, and started typing away on his phone. Jonny just shook his head. 

What the fuck was tik tok anyway? 

***

Being in LA meant that no one gives a single fuck who they are. As far as celebrity status goes, they were next to nothing when at any moment Ryan Reynolds could walk through the door. 

It was the best, but also the fucking worst, because they wouldn’t be recognized anywhere, and the thought of that usually left them puking in alleyways after a few too many shots, or lose limbed and dancing like no one was watching in a club full of cameras. 

Jonny had learned his lesson after the first few seasons. Thank God it was just dinner and not the club tonight. Jonny was down for rookie bonding, but not holding someone's hair back or trying to prevent them from getting sick in a lyft. Besides, his mind was wandering to other, much more important things. 

Pop Punk Pat: Doughty??? Man. I think you put him into an early retirement tonight. Dude looks like you took a couple years off his life. 

Jonny smiled down at his phone. He knew he shouldn’t be on it during dinner, but he had wanted to check to see if Patrick had texted him. He had, a little over an hour ago. Jonny guessed Patrick had been able to catch some of the game then.

Not feeling too bad since they’d already gotten their food, Jonny responded. 

Jonny: You’re ridiculous. I didn’t even score tonight.

Jonny didn’t even have time to put his phone down when his phone was buzzing from an incoming text. 

Pop Punk Pat: Neither did he if you didn’t notice. Besides you had a ton of great chances. Doughty must have been -3 with his play tonight. 

Jonny rolled his eyes fondly. Patrick was doing wonders for his self confidence -with his constant compliments- and Jonny loved how he always wanted to break down every game. 

Jonny started to reply, already sucked into any and all things Patrick before he paused. He was supposed to be bonding with the guys, not focusing on Patrick. He shook himself and stuffed his phone back in his pocket, bringing his attention back to the table. He’d text Patrick later.

Well, he thought that until his phone buzzed again, and he unthinkingly went to check it. Jonny was reading Patrick’s text, a long one breaking down a high quality scoring chance Jonny had tonight, when Brent interrupted him. 

“ _Please_ get out of here. You’re insufferable, smiling at your phone all night like we aren’t even here.”

Jonny could feel the heat creeping up his neck, embarrassed. He didn’t think he’d been _that_ obvious. He just… Well… He missed Patrick and wanted to talk to him. It wasn’t like he was _trying_ to ignore the guys, but he sees them every day. 

“I-” Jonny started to defend himself, but Brent was already shaking his head.

“Please go. I’ll pick up your bill even. I just can’t look at your face all,” Brent made some weird hand motion at his face again, which still didn’t tell Jonny anything, “Anymore. You’re-”

“Lovesick?” Duncs interrupted and Jonny’s head snapped over to him. It’s not like Jonny and Seabs were having a private conversation, they were literally with the entire team right now, but he didn’t think anyone else had noticed him or their conversation. 

Jonny attempted to send a glare Duncs’ way, but even he knew it was nothing compared to his usual stare. 

Duncs raised his hands up in an act of defeat and said, “Just stating the obvious.”

“I’ve never seen you so happy. I mean, I’ve seen you happy because of other things, like winning rounds and cups, but not over a _guy_. It’s different,” Seabs paused, seemingly lost in thought before he continued. “I thought I’d be relishing in it and trying to make you blush about it, but it’s actually kind of disgusting.”

Jonny rolled his eyes at all of Brent’s ridiculousness. Brent was constantly trying to set Jonny up with random guys he’d met or point out “cute” guys to him (Seabs did _not_ have good taste) when they went out, but he always started acting like he’d been replaced when Jonny actually did what he wanted and got with someone. It always wore off after a few days, but it always happened when Jonny started dating anyone new. Jonny knew better than to be surprised by it now. 

“Way to sound like a homophobe Seabs,” Saad interjected, and Jonny was more surprised at his presence in the conversation than his words. He was joking, of course, which Jonny knew. Seabs apparently did not. 

“Clearly, I am not homophobic. I didn't mean it like that,” Seabs said, and Jonny could detect some actually heat in his voice.

Jonny knew what both of them had meant, even if no one else did. He sighed, ready to talk everyone down, but was primarily focusing on the fact that he didn’t want Brent getting all worked up over nothing. 

“Chill Seabs, we know. He’s just joking around. Can’t stand the sight of me when I’m not brooding or playing your favorite part as Captain Serious, ehh?” Jonny said, trying to lighten up the mood. 

Brent looked like he wanted to say something, argue a point that didn’t really need to be stressed, but shook his head once decidedly instead and let it pass. 

“You’re enjoying the conversation on your phone more than the one around you at the table. We get it, been there. Might as well take the easy out before Stromer and Cat catch on and try to drag you to a club,” Keith told him, unphased by Seabs’ drama. 

Jonny knew he was right, but he kind of felt like an ass. He didn’t want the guys to think that they weren’t worth his time, or that he didn’t want to hang out with them. He wanted his team to know how much he valued them, on and off the ice. But… Patrick. Jonny couldn’t stop thinking about him and if they were giving him an out, Jonny should take it, just like Duncs said. 

Besides, Jonny wouldn’t mind hearing Patrick’s voice right about now. Texting was one thing, but he craved to hear his voice, to see him, to touch him. He wanted every part of Patrick but was willing to take anything he could get. 

“Thanks,” Jonny mumbled down at his lap before straightening and meeting them all head on. He didn’t need to be embarrassed, he didn’t, he told himself. “I’ll see you all tomorrow at breakfast. Have a good night.” He got up from the table, pushed in his chair, and downed the rest of his wine. 

He focused in on the vets and said, “And if you go out, don’t call me if you need me. I’m not messing with any drunken messes tonight.” He looked pointedly at the other end of the table where all the rookies were being roped into drinking games by Cat at a fucking white tablecloth fancy ass place before returning his gaze to them. 

Seabs and Duncs both cracked smiles, knowing Jonny was such a liar, and that if anything were to happen, he’d be pissed beyond belief if he wasn’t contacted. Seabs just gave him an “Okay, Jonny,” like he was humoring him, and Jonny knew he was but didn’t care. 

The only thing he cared about was waiting on the other end of the phone thousands of miles away. 

*** 

“Jonny,” Patrick greeted him warmly. 

Jonny was laying back against his pillows, phone against his ear, already having changed and done his night routine before calling Patrick. He shifted on the bed, torn between sitting up and laying down. He was tired from the game, but didn’t want to fall asleep on the phone. Not when he could be talking to Patrick.

“Pat,” Jonny greeted equally as warm. They sounded like long lost loves being reunited after decades, not like two idiots who had been texting within the last hour. Jonny let that thought go though, not wanting to look too hard at it. 

“It’s so good to hear your voice,” Patrick tells him, and Jonny thinks that should be his line. Patrick’s the one with the voice that people pay to hear. 

“I was tired of texting,” Jonny said, like that explains everything, but Patrick just hums in response like it does. 

“You caught some of the game?” Jonny asked, trying not to get caught up in listening to Patrick’s steady breaths on the phone. 

“Yeah, like five minutes of the second and the third. I was surprised I was able to watch it since you’re not the local team.” 

Jonny’s heart warmed at the thought of Patrick watching his game. Patrick, Jonny knows, has watched lots of Jonny’s games over the years. More games than Jonny can really even fathom, if he’s honest. But before, he was watching those games to support the team, not because of Jonny specifically. It meant something that Patrick was making an extra effort to watch even with it clashing with his busy schedule of touring and performing and whatever else Patrick did on a daily basis. It was obvious he was doing it for Jonny. An act of affection that made Jonny feel things.

Maybe Jonny had had a little too much wine at dinner after all. 

“The first was a wash anyway,” Jonny said, after he realized he’d been silent for far too long. “How was dinner?” 

“Good, really good.” Jonny could hear Patrick shifting in his sheets and felt a pang of jealousy. At sheets. A pang of jealousy at fucking sheets because they got to touch Patrick’s skin. Jonny shook his head. He was losing it. 

“... to Sienna Mercato?” Patrick asked, and Jonny really should have been listening instead of having an internal freak out. 

“No,” Jonny answers, hoping that’s the right one. 

“You should go sometime. Next time you’re there if you can. It’s a really nice place. It has all these different floors and is like a different restaurant on each floor or something. Anyways, on the second floor we ate some bomb ass pizza, it was so good,” and Jonny could hear the moan in Patrick’s voice over fucking pizza, like he doesn’t eat it every single day, and Jonny wanted so badly to feel his throat as he let that moan escape. 

“And I might have gotten a little drunk, even though I swear I wasn't. There’s just this beer garden thing -how pretentious- but it was actually really nice. Anyways, I might have gotten a tiny bit tipsy after losing track of how much I was drinking, but honestly, it's not like we had a show tonight, it’s fine to let loose. That's what I told Sharpy when I tried to order another round and he asked for the bill right over me like I wasn’t even talking. And then he was laughing and giving me that fucking ridiculous smile when he was herding me into the car -not that I needed help getting into a car- I swear Sharpy is just overprotective and babies me, I wasn’t drunk or anything, and-”

Jonny listened to Patrick babble in circles for the next five minutes, basically repeating the same thing he already told him and stressing the fact that he was not a thirty something year old guy who got drunk at a rooftop garden. Based on what Patrick told him of Sharpy and the rest of the band’s reactions, Jonny begged to differ, but he didn’t feel the need to stress this point to Patrick. The thought of it all made him smile, and he was sure Patrick had been beautifully blushing from the beer and smiling in a way that would have only hurt his cheeks the next day. 

“Are you still drunk?” Jonny finally interrupted him, amused. 

“No,” Patrick said, indignantly, like Jonny had offended him and had ignored the last minutes of his ramblings that had just stressed the opposite. “I’m a little buzzed. That’s about it. That was hours ago.” 

Jonny hummed in agreement and let it drop.

They fell into a comfortable silence then, and Jonny wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be saying goodnight. He was trying to resist a yawn, noticing that the clock was blinking at him that it was just about one, and Jonny knew he’d be in a not so great mood in the morning if he didn’t get to sleep soon. 

So, Jonny was about to sign off, when Patrick interrupted him and asked, “What are you wearing?” in a tone of voice that had Jonny wondering how he’d ever thought he could sleep when he felt so awake now. 

Jonny huffed out a breath, waiting to hear Patrick’s laughter on the other side of the phone for using such a line. It didn’t come. Did that mean that…

“Are you serious?” Jonny asked, genuinely confused where this was going. 

“Yes,” Patrick answered automatically. “I mean, no. I don’t really care what you’re wearing, I’d actually prefer if you weren’t wearing anything, but I thought that was a good place to start. A safe place. You know?” 

Patrick was talking fast now, running over each word with the next like he needed to get it all out there before he could talk himself out of it. 

“Aren’t you in the bus?” Jonny asked. His mind was reeling but he needed to know some things first. Like where Patrick was and if he was surrounded by too many guys who would definitely be overhearing Patrick because Patrick was loud. Very loud. Jonny knew that after barely knowing him, and he didn’t think he could do this if he knew Patrick was sharing that with others. 

“No, Jonny,” Patrick said, exasperated. “We don’t always sleep in the bus. That’s mainly during travel or if we’re only in a place for like a day. I’m in a hotel room. By myself,” he stressed this last part. “Did you really think I slept in a bus for months on end? That would literally murder my back.”

Jonny hadn’t really thought about it actually. He doesn’t really know that much about Patrick’s day to day besides travel, perform, hang out with the band. 

Patrick took Jonny’s silence as an answer and continued on. “So, what are you wearing?”

“Nothing,” Jonny said just to be an asshole. He could hear Patrick make a little noise on the other end of the line that Jonny couldn’t quite decipher. He pushed his briefs off then, feeling bad if he actually was lying to Patrick. 

“Did you like the pictures?” Patrick asked him now, and Jonny didn’t know what he was talking about until he recalled his pregame nap. 

“Pat,” Jonny groans, and he can tell Patrick is preening. “You gotta warn a guy. I almost lost it in the locker room. Next to Brent. I’d never have lived that down.” 

“Yeah?” Patrick says, almost sounding shy. Jonny marvels at how Patrick can be so bold and so shy at the same time. Sending dick pics only to get shy about talking about them later. Jonny shakes his head but then goes to reassure him. 

“I can’t believe you aren’t here. In my bed. Right now. Those pictures. God. You have such a pretty cock you know? Guys ever tell you that?” Jonny hears Patrick moving on the other side of the line but doesn’t stop talking. “I’m sure you always hear it about your mouth. Those lips are so. Just, perfect. And the things you can do with your mouth, your tongue. I know you know. I see the comments on your fucking instagram, all these people so obsessed with it. But your mouth -well- it’s got nothing on that cock. So fucking pretty.” 

“Jonny,” Patrick breathes out, and Jonny can feel his skin thrumming and his arousal building. He doesn’t usually do this. He hasn’t in a long time. Hasn’t with Patrick before at all. But he gets that life on the road, long distance, can be lonely. So, Jonny’s tried it, with partners in the past, but it always felt like pulling teeth. It was something Jonny would do for them, but it never really took him anywhere. Now, just hearing Patrick’s breath pick up and little moans start to escape was making Jonny feel things. 

Jonny put his phone on speaker and placed it on the bed beside him. He scooted back, and shifted down the pillows, hand trailing down his chest before he wrapped his hand around himself, where he was slowly stiffening up. 

“What are you wearing?” Jonny asked, and he could hear Patrick’s surprised laugh fall right out of him. 

“Nothing,” he said, and Jonny could hear the hint of a smirk in his voice as he echoed Jonny’s earlier words. 

Jonny rolled his eyes. Patrick would be the one to start this up and then expect Jonny to do all the work. He didn’t really mind though. 

“What are you thinking about?” Jonny asked.

“Thinking about your mouth, Jonny.”

“Oh yeah? Thinking about it, where?”

“On me,” Patrick said like he wasn’t stating the obvious. 

“My neck, biting down like when we were together last. Or, or, or lower. On me. Tasting me. I’ve dreamt about it, you know.” 

“Oh yeah? Dreaming about me, baby? Feeling my mouth hot and tight around you, taking you in. Deep as you can go. Pulling my hair and urging me on. Or maybe just pinning me in place and taking what you need. Fucking my mouth just to get the edge off before I could return the favor and fuck your needy tight h-”

A moan escaped Patrick, followed by whimpers, and Jonny could tell Patrick was holding back on him. 

“Baby, let me hear you,” Jonny urged and Patrick let out a sound that left Jonny shuddering and very thankful that Patrick was in a hotel room and not on the fucking bus. 

“I want that,” Patrick said in a rush, finally remembering words that weren’t just variations of Jonny’s name. “I want to…” Patrick stuttered out. 

“You want me to taste you?” Jonny asked, humming like he would around his dick if he could really get his mouth around it now. Just the thought had Jonny stroking himself. 

“Yeah,” Patrick breathed, “Want you to taste me and let me lick myself out of your mouth right after.”

“I’d let you,” Jonny promised Patrick, stuffing a few fingers in his mouth just to feel closer to him. Imagining that it was Patrick’s fingers or his thick cock in his mouth, running along his tongue, rather than his own. 

“Yeah, Jonny? You want my cum coating the inside of your mouth, shooting down your throat?” 

Jonny whined around his fingers, wishing it was more than just his own saliva filling his mouth right now. It was like a switch had flipped in Patrick and now all he could do was run his mouth. 

“I want you to fuck me, Jon. I need it. Really really need it. Need you to be here with me, giving it to me. Want to wa-walk around feeling it and thinking about you.” 

Jonny, reluctantly, took his fingers from his mouth, to answer Patrick. He wrapped his now spit soaked hand around his hard, straining cock and felt precome leaking from its head. 

“Would you be good for me, Pat? I bet you’d take it so well. After you fucked my mouth and licked the mess out of it, I’d be so hard. Wouldn’t be able to be patient for that much longer. Needing to be inside you. Feeling you. Taking what was mine.” 

“I want that, Jonny. I’m yours. I swear, I’m yours-yours.” Patrick’s voice was hitching higher and his breath was coming fast. Panting down on the line now. 

“I know, baby. I know,” Jonny cooed at him. “Don’t worry though. I’d be gentle. Open you up real good. Get you ready for me. How many fingers do you think you’d need for me three or four?” 

“Probably four,” Patrick gasped. 

“Four. Yeah, you’re probably right. Give you my fist if you needed it. You’d probably need to get off again from just my fingers alone, but I wouldn’t let you. Needing you to come on my cock.”

“I could do both. For you. Whatever you want. I’ll be good, Jonny.” 

“I know, I know baby.” Jonny sucked in deep breaths, listening to Patrick on the other side of the line. He needed to be there with him, touching him. Hearing him was great, but being able to see him, feel the heat of his skin underneath his palms was something he craved. 

“You close?” Jonny asked, feeling so close to the edge himself already.

“Yeah, Jonny, just a-a-a-” 

“Next time I see you I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself from just fucking you there and then no matter where we are. It could be in the fucking airport, I don’t care. I don’t think I’ll be able to stop from getting your sweet mouth on mine and taking you apart. Bending you over, filling you up and giving you what you so desperately want. Fucking my cock so deep inside that I’ll have to carry you everywhere because you’ll be too fucking sore to walk around. Might even have to cancel a show, even the idea of stalking across the stage making you sore. And-”

Jonny could hear Patrick letting out a high long moan, and then him panting against the phone, breath slowing slowly. Jonny fucks into his fist urgently, now desperate to feel release and let Patrick’s cum dumb nothings that he murmured out coax the orgasm out of him. 

“That was… good,” Patrick said after a minute, laughing a little.

“Yeah,” Jonny said, and he knew it sounded embarrassed but fuck, he was kind of. He wasn’t used to running his mouth like that. 

Patrick laughed again, softly, probably at Jonny’s embarrassment. “It was really good, Jon. Wish I could feel your cum coming out of me right now good.” 

A wounded noise escaped Jonny’s lips before Jonny could do anything about it. He just wanted that so badly.

“So, it’s been great talking to you, Jon. Like seriously, we should def do this more often, and maybe switch to facetime or skype or something, but it’s like five in the morning here, so I’m going to go to bed now.” 

What? Jonny looked over to the nightstand and saw the clock inching towards two. Fuck. He’d forgotten that time zones exist. He’d probably woken Patrick up when he called. He’d just been so excited at the thought of hearing his voice again. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I forgot, you know, how late it was there. Did I wake you up?”

Patrick laughed, “Yeah, it was almost four when you called, of course I was asleep. But I wouldn't have answered if I hadn’t wanted to. I’ve been missing you. I couldn’t turn down a chance to hear you.” 

Heat bloomed within him, but it had less to do with anything sexual and more to do with just feeling genuinely loved. And Jonny was _not_ thinking about _that_. 

“Good night, Pat.” Jonny said, sounding way too fond but not really wanting to stop himself. It’s not like Patrick was unaware of how he felt. 

“I’ll text you in the morning,” Patrick promised before Jonny heard the line go dead. 

Jonny clutched his phone to his chest for long minutes before taking a quick shower to clean himself up. When he slid between the sheets again, this time with only the lights of the city illuminating the room, he thought about how he used to only think about winning his next game. Now, he only thinks about seeing Patrick again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though Jonny and Pat weren’t physically together, I hope there was enough 1988 time in this chapter for you. <3 
> 
> The next chapter is one of my absolute favorites! I’ll hopefully have it out soonish, as long as the boys irl don’t distract me. (Spoiler alert- I’m v distracted.)


	12. Superstar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonny misses Patrick a lot. So, he does something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My world has been more than crazy these last few months. To add to that craziness, my laptop broke, which meant I wasn’t able to do a lot of writing. Long story short, I’m so sorry for a very long delay, but I’m excited to share with you chapter 12! Chapter 12 (this one!) is the last chapter before the very short epilogue. Thank you thank you thank you if you are still here reading this update!

He’s insane. Jonny _knows_ he’s insane. That he should not be here right now and that he sure as hell shouldn’t be doing this. It’s probably super creepy. Totally possessive. But even knowing that, he was still here, at O’Hare, the clock a few ticks away from a quarter past six, waiting to board the next flight to Columbus. 

Jonny’s an idiot. An absolute idiot. But he needs to see Patrick again. Not just on a phone screen, but a living breathing blushing Patrick right in front of him. A Patrick he can touch, and can hear without his voice sounding fuzzy or going in and out due to a poor connection. A Patrick he can taste.

He has two days off -well really one day off and an optional practice he’s telling himself he’s allowed to miss- and he can do whatever he wants with them. So, if he wants to buy last minute plane tickets and book a night at a five star hotel in downtown Columbus then that's his business. And Patrick’s. But still his business. 

He checked their schedule. He checked with Sharpy. Even if Sharpy thought he was crazy, which Jonny had come to terms with already, that he is in fact crazy, Sharpy made sure everything would go smoothly, that they’d be staying the night in Columbus and not leaving for the next stop right after, that he’d make sure Patrick was free after the show, and that no one, especially not Patrick, would find out about Jonny’s visit before Jonny was there in the flesh. 

Jonny took a deep breath and shook his head, trying to clear it. He could pull this off. Patrick would be more than happy to see him. He wasn’t a stalker. Jonny kept going over the arguments in his head on if this was the right thing to do over and over and over again. 

The gate agent made his decision for him as they welcomed them all over the loudspeaker and asked for the first group of passengers to line up. Jonny was going. It was normal to visit your boyfriend when you missed them. Yes, it usually didn't involve coordinating hockey and touring schedules, but every relationship was different. Jonny just knew he had to see Patrick again. 

So, he was going to Columbus, the next stop of Showtime’s tour. 

Jonny shifted his weight, readjusting his overpriced Louis Vutton duffle on his shoulder, and listened as the passengers in line in front of him got their boarding passes scanned. There was hardly anyone on his flight this morning, and he was grateful that he hadn’t sprung for first class. The flight was short anyway, only a little over an hour, so he hadn’t mind cramming between strangers, but now he was especially glad he hadn’t wasted the money. He’d be getting his own row anyway.

He placed his phone under the scanner and waited until he heard the beep of approval. After being wished safe travels, he made his way down toward the plane.

He crammed his duffle in the overhead bin, saw the sparkle of recognition in one of the flight attendant’s eyes, greeted her with a good morning, and sat in his own row toward the front of the plane. He checked his email, reread some texts, and pulled out his headphones. The captain’s voice struggled for dominance over his music, but ultimately was no match. Jonny just closed his eyes and settled back in his seat as he braced himself for take off. 

***

PLD: thanks again for lunch!!! I’m glad it worked out with our schedules. No ones ever in town when they aren’t playing here.

Jonny figured that it was pretty obvious why no one was ever in Columbus, but he didn’t want to tell him that. 

Jonny: Good luck tonight! Wouldn’t mind if you beat the Preds. 

PLD: For you? Anything

Jonny just shook his head and smiled. When he’d figured out he was going to be in Columbus he had reached out to Pierre-Luc to see if he wanted to grab lunch. He had texted back immediately that he was free, even before he’d even checked to see if he was going to be in town or if he was on a road trip. Jonny knows this because he texted back a few minutes later confirming to him that he 100% for sure was available for lunch because he’d just checked their schedule. 

It was a little ridiculous, but Jonny didn’t mind. He knew that PLD had been a fan of his since he was a kid, that he’d watched Jonny raise cups not from the bench, but from his couch. Jonny couldn’t believe he was old enough to be someone's favorite hockey star from their childhood, especially someone who was currently playing in the league, but PLD was proof that he was. 

Lunch had been good, fun even, and was less of a fan meet and greet experience and more like a lunch he’d have with Cat. After all, Duber was an NHL hockey star, playing on the first line, and surely a favorite amongst the kids in Columbus. They were more similar than Duber thought. 

So, they had talked shop, and Jonny had tried not to sound too competitive, and it had been pretty easy going. The only hiccup was when PLD had asked why he was in town.

“I’m visiting my boyfriend,” Jonny had said simply. He’d reached down, taking his eyes off his lunch date while trying to get his phone out of his back pocket without it sliding off the seat and to the floor below and continued on. “He’s a singer for Showtime. They’re great. Just, so good. He’s got a great voice. Here. Let me show you a picture of him and the band.” Jonny had thumbed through his instagram and found the picture he was looking for and promptly shoved the phone in Duber’s direction. 

When Jonny looked up he was met with wide eyes. Those eyes glanced back and forth between Jonny’s face and his phone waiting in his outstretched hand but finally settled on his face.

“What?” Jonny had asked. 

“I…” Duber stalled out as color filled his cheeks. “I knew you were gay, obviously. But I didn’t realize that you… you know… actually dated people.” He cringed the moment the words finished spilling out and Jonny couldn’t find it in him to be offended.

Jonny snorted and laughed a little, while reaffirming that he did actually date men and that Jonny wasn’t just a hockey robot that Chicago shipped around to different cities. 

“Take a look,” Jonny said, shaking his phone that was still stretched out to him. PLD finally took it, and quickly focused in on the photo, zooming in and out and thumbing over out of the photo to see the bands whole account. 

“He’s hot as fuck,” Duber said with finality. “Doesn’t he seem a little old though?”

“ _Old_?” Jonny asked, confused. If anything Patrick looked younger than he actually was. 

“Yeah. I mean, only by a few years. I’m definitely not judging if that’s your thing. I’ve thought about it in the past actually, gotten a few offers since the move here, and well,” PLD shrugged and took a breath before continuing on, “He has like the most amazing hair.”

Jonny narrowed his eyes in response. He wasn’t sure if he was joking or being serious. Jonny loves Patrick’s curls, but he knows from Patrick’s constant complaining that most people don’t and that they frequently express this to him. Jonny would let it slide, but knowing that it was such a sore spot for Patrick he tested the waters. 

“Yeah, his curls are to die for.”

“Curls?” Duber asked, confused. “What do you mean ‘curls’?”

Now Jonny was confused too. “Like, his hair?” Jonny reiterated. He didn’t know how to make it any more obvious. 

“Wait. _Him?_ I thought you were talking about this guy.” Duber turned the phone back towards Jonny and pointed at Sharpy. Jonny just had to laugh at that. 

“No. No. Definitely not. He’s good looking, of course, but he’s straight, very much married, and not my type.”

“And this,” PLD pointed to Patrick in the picture, arm slung over Sharpy’s shoulders as they posed in some bar. “This is your type?” He asked, eyebrows inching up skeptically. 

“Yeah,” Jonny shrugged. “Pretty much spot on.”

“Huh.” PLD returned Jonny’s phone while looking lost in thought. “Never would have thought that.”

“You also thought I didn’t actually have sex, so are you really that surprised?” Jonny asked, amused.

“Whoa, dude no. Stop. I didn’t think you _dated_. I know you don’t actually have _sex_. That’s like learning my parents have sex, which is just-. No. That’s gonna be a no for me.” He shuddered, and Jonny just laughed. 

So, Jonny was glad he went to lunch, but now he was ready for a nap. He’d woken up around four for the flight, and he was really starting to feel it now. He didn’t want to be half asleep at the concert tonight, or grumpy. Not that he was ever grumpy. Seabs just liked to say that sometimes. 

As he laid back against the plethora of pillows stacked high on the bed, after finally changing out of his plane clothes, his phone beeped with an incoming text. 

Pop Punk Pat: How’s your day off going? What are you up to?!

Obviously, Jonny couldn’t say he was resting up for Patrick’s concert tonight. He wasn’t going to ruin the surprise when he was so close to pulling it off, but he didn’t want to lie either. 

Jonny: About to lay down for a nap. Routines, you know?

Pop Punk Pat: Sounds… boring. Lmao please tell me youre going to do something fun on your day off. 

Pop Punk Pat: Something that doesn’t involve hockey. 

Jonny: I’m sure I’ll be able to think of something. I might catch the jackets/preds game later since we’re just points away from them now. 

Pop Punk Pat: Something that DOESNT involve hockey jon!!!! That’s basically work for you. See if one of the guys wants to go out instead. I know Cat’s been wanting to try that new   
restaurant downtown. 

Jonny: What restaurant? And how do you know that?

Pop Punk Pat: Chill Jonny. Alex and I are friends. We text sometimes. Which you’d know if you hung out with him more. You need to stop with the whole secret serious captain locked away in his super secret condo thing you got going on. Youre a straight up recluse. 

Jonny groaned, Patrick sounded just like his teammates. 

Jonny: I am not. I go out with them plenty and they’ve been over to the condo on numerous occasions. It’s not a secret. 

Jonny: But I’ll text him about it. I don’t know why he wouldn’t just go with Stromer though. 

Pop Punk Pat: Maybe he doesn’t want to spend 24/7 with Dylan. 

Jonny: Have you met them?

Pop Punk Pat: Okay. Fair. But still. I think he needs some Jonny time and he’s too scared to ask you so he mentioned it to me so I’d talk to you about it. It’s smart really, since he knows I’m the only one you actually listen to. *Smirking emoji* *Kissy face emoji*

Jonny: Okay, okay I’ll text him. We might have to do it another night since I’m busy. 

Pop Punk Pat: Busy? I thought you didn’t have any plans?

Oh fuck. Patrick was right. He had literally just said he didn’t have any plans. Way to look suspicious. 

Jonny: The game remember?

Pop Punk Pat: Ughhhhhh youre too much. Go take your nap and text me later! I might not respond tho since I’m about to go to sound check. 

Jonny: Good luck tonight, Pat. You’re going to kill it like always. 

Pop Punk Pat: *Flexed arm emoji* *Flexed arm emoji* *Flexed arm emoji* 

***

As paranoid as Jonny had been the first time he had gone to see Showtime, one would think he’d be tugging down on the brim of his hat right about now trying not to be noticed, but that was the last thing he was doing. Hell, he wasn’t even wearing a hat this time around. 

Jonny wasn’t worried about being recognized because, let’s face it, no one was going to recognize him here, even though the Blue Jackets call this city home. It’s not a hockey town like Chicago is. Yes, Jonny will admit they’ve grown their base these last few seasons, but he wasn’t fooling himself in believing he was a celebrity here like he was in Chicago. 

These last few hours proved that. He’d arrived early and checked in with Sharpy, and grabbed a beer at the bar. Through that and the first two acts no one has said a word to him. It probably helps that Columbus is actually playing a home game tonight, but he honestly didn’t think it made a difference. Jonny was a nobody here, and Jonny fucking loved it. He wasn’t the captain of the Chicago Blackhawks right now, he was Jonny, the boyfriend of the lead vocalist in Showtime. 

Just like last time, Jonny saw movement on stage and knew it was about to begin. This time around he knew who the band was and what was to come. He was prepared for the roar of the fans, the audience rushing forward, and the pre-show announcers. When the strobe lights stopped on Patrick, and he flashed the crowd his brilliant smile and the dimples Jonny loved so much, he knew he was right where he needed to be. 

Jonny watched in amazement as Patrick strutted back and forth along the stage, and just like before, he was mesmerized. But even more mesmerizing was the tight red shirt Patrick was wearing. Jonny’s eyes were glued to Patrick’s chest, the Hawks logo tightly stretching over his pecs. He knew, rationally, that he should be listening to Patrick belting his heart out and not being creepy, but he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t even hear Patrick with all the blood rushing in his ears. Jonny’s mouth was starting to water just thinking about Patrick wearing his name again. If he could just get a good look at his back and see… Jonny would surely be done for. 

It took until Patrick doing the band’s introductions for him to finally see the back of Patrick’s shirt.   
And it wasn't his name in white across his back. No. In big bold letters DeBrincat stared back at him. That fucker. 

Jonny, like any completely rational and not jealous boyfriend, immediately pulled out his phone and texted Cat.   
Jonny: Why does Patrick have a shirt with your name on it?

Alex DeBrincat: I gave it to him duh.

Alex DeBrincat: Wait, how do you know that???

Jonny: Because I’m with him. He’s wearing it right now. 

Alex DeBrincat: ??????

Alex DeBrincat: With Patrick right now? How??? Isn’t he on tour still???

Jonny: Yes

Alex DeBrincat: ???

Jonny: Airplanes exist Cat.

Alex DeBrincat: WHAT

Alex DeBrincat: Jonny did you seriously fly out to see Patrick today?

Alex DeBrincat: Man, you are so gone.

Jonny: Yes? It's my day off. I can do what I want.

Jonny: Don’t text Partrick, he doesn’t know I’m here yet. 

Alex DeBrincat: HOW DOES HE NOT KNOW YOURE THERE

Jonny: Calm down, Alex. I wanted to surprise him. I’m just gonna go backstage after the show.

Alex DeBrincat: Ohhhh I see. If it worked once, who’s to say it won’t work again? Am I right??

Alex DeBrincat: Have fun with your boy tonight. 

Jonny: *eye roll emoji* Don’t give him any more of your merch.

Alex DeBrincat: Okay Jonny *crying laughing emoji*

Jonny shook his head but left it at that. Alex would be lucky if Jonny went with him to that new restaurant now, trying to pull something like that. 

*** 

When the lights came back on, and the crowd started to make its way toward the door, Jonny knew it was finally his time. This time he knew better than to waste time at the bar, he didn’t need any liquid courage. Instead, he went straight over to the backstage area. 

Benn was already standing there, ready to stop any overzealous fans from going backstage. Jonny was hoping that Jamie wouldn’t include him in that category after the tricks he pulled last time, but lucky it didn’t go that way. 

Jamie instantly recognized him, and this time he could see it in his eyes. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Benn said, extending his hand out in greeting. 

Jonny shrugged his shoulders before extending his own. “It’s kind of a surprise.” 

“I’m sure it is,” Jamie said with a tiny knowing smile. 

“So…?” Jonny said, ready to be with Patrick. He’d seen him all night but was unable to do anything about it. Though rushing the stage had seemed like an option at one point of the night, Jonny knew he wouldn’t live down the videos of it afterwards.

“No laminate?” Benn asked, his smile growing. 

“Must have left it backstage,” Jonny shrugged again, and gave a smile of his own. 

Benn laughed, all of his bodyguard seriousness falling away, and Jonny could start to understand what Tyler saw in him.

“Go on in, Jonny. You know husbands don't need laminates.” 

With Benn’s blessing, Jonny made his way back stage. This time there was only a tiny hallway and three rooms, so he didn’t need Sharp to lead the way. 

Jonny could already hear Patrick’s voice bouncing off the walls. He sounded happy, more than happy, and Jonny wanted more than anything to see the smile Patrick was wearing for himself. So, he took that first step forward. 

Patrick’s back was to him as he approached the room, his arms waving out in front of him wildly, animated as he talked to Sharpy. Jonny could see Sharp’s smile growing as he saw Jonny approaching. It was all too perfect. 

Jonny walked through the threshold of the room and said, “You really should get better security. They let just about anyone back here.” 

Patrick whipped around and the smile he gave Jonny made his heart stop. This whole thing, not just flying to Columbus, but all the drama of being in a public relationship as an out NHL player, was more than worth it to see the way Patrick lit up right now. 

Jonny knew he’d do anything for Patrick. Whatever it took, nothing would ever stand in the way of Jonny loving Patrick. 

But Jonny didn’t need to tell Patrick that right now, didn’t need to profess his love with Tyler snapping pictures in the background and Sharp looking like a proud parent. Jonny could tell that Patrick knew this even without hearing the words, and if there was any confusion, Jonny would make sure to tell Patrick it over and over again. 

So, instead, he said: 

“Take your shirt off.” 

Laughter filled the room and Patrick’s eye’s were dancing with amusement and delight. 

“You know, I’ve imagined you saying that under different circumstances, but I don't mind either way.”


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning and the end for Patrick and Jonny.

“Ughhhhhh!” Patrick groaned a few steps ahead of him. 

“I cannot BELIEVE we’re doing this! I wish we were just chilling in a hotel,” Patrick whined. He turned around ready to plead his case for the fifth time that hour but Jonny couldn’t even focus on that when the sun was filtering through the trees and leaving a halo effect around his curls. Even when complaining he was so effortlessly beautiful. 

Jonny shook his head in what could only be described as delighted frustration. The smile he was trying so hard to hide kept sneaking out and he knew his admonishments meant next to nothing when he couldn’t even take himself seriously. 

“Patrick,” Jonny warned. 

“God, don’t ‘Patrick’ me. Think of those crisp white sheets against your skin right about now!” 

“Patrick,” Jonny said again, trying to regain his natural monotone to prevent his laughter from bubbling out. “We are literally staying in a four bedroom private cabin, not sleeping in the dirt without plumbing and electricity.” 

Patrick put a hand on his hip and looked to the sky for guidance as if _he_ was the one being difficult right now. 

“Yes, Jon, but we aren’t there _right now_ ,” Patrick said as he smacked his hand against his arm to kill a mosquito. 

Jonny rolled his eyes and took a deep breath before responding. “You said you wanted to go hiking with me. _You_ agreed to it. I don’t know why you agreed to it if you hate the outdoors.”

Patrick pulled out his most put upon face and said, “I didn’t want you to go alone, that sounded sad.”

Jonny huffed out a laugh and mumbled out, “Well, I probably would have preferred that to listening to you complain every step of the way.”

“Hey!” Patrick pouted, his ears sharper than Jonny would have expected after years of touring. 

“Come here,” Jonny said, softening his tone. He knew he had to fix things even if Patrick was being dramatic and he was right. 

Patrick found his way to Jonny’s side where he fit so naturally, and wrapped his arms around him. 

“Thanks for coming with me, baby,” Jonny punctuated with a kiss to Patrick’s curls. 

Patrick only grunted in response, still not pleased with the whole hiking trip and Jonny’s lack of willingness to turn back after only two miles. Jonny knew that Patrick couldn’t hold out for long though.

“I’m so glad we’re getting some alone time together,” Jonny added. 

And Jonny meant it. After he had surprised Patrick in Columbus, he had had to get back to Chicago and play out the rest of the season. And sure, they didn’t make the playoffs, but that had its upside. An upside he wouldn’t admit to to anyone other than Patrick, but ending his season with the regular season gave him more time to be with Patrick before hockey tried to take over his life again. Besides, he knew next season would be the season they got back to it. The hard work of this past season had set the stage for it. 

Jonny had spent the beginning of the summer on a different kind of road trip, joining Patrick on the last leg of their North American tour. It wasn’t as bad as Jonny assumed it’d be, but he was glad that Sharp wasn’t around to interrupt them anymore. Especially after that one time in the bus, but they’d all sworn never to speak of that particular moment again. 

They’d spent an ungodly amount of time during the offseason in Buffalo, but Jonny had thought it worth it since Patrick had been all too pleased when he got to introduce Jonny to his family. Patrick’d even recovered from the mini heart attack he had when Jonny’s usual practice at the rink had ended up being a practice with Jeff Skinner and Eric Staal. 

Now, back in Chicago as the new season quickly approached, Jonny had thought it was a good idea to get away one last time before the craziness of a season started all over again. This season was going to be different from all the others, because this season he had Patrick. Jonny couldn’t say honestly that hockey was his life anymore. Of course, it was still a big part of it, he was after all still the captain of the Chicago Blackhawks, but with Patrick by his side, he had different priorities. Hockey was no longer his entire life. Patrick, and spending time outside the rink with the guys, seemed to be taking up more and more of his time these days. 

In Columbus, back months ago, when the sweat was cooling on their skin and the crisp white sheets that Patrick loved so much had been kicked to the end of the bed, Jonny had known Patrick was the beginning and the end for him. The end of his life alone, and the beginning of a life that was less focused on figuring out the power play units and more about finding ways to make Patrick happy. Jonny loved Patrick, it was as simple as that, and he didn’t want to live a life without him anymore. 

Jonny’d gently pushed back Patrick’s curls and said, “I don’t want to be without you, Pat.”

And Patrick’s lazy grin had spread across his face, and he’d replied, simply, “You don’t ever have to be.” 

And thus began their summer together. But that summer was now coming to a close, Jonny could feel it in the air and see it in the trees, as their leaves of orange and gold drifted softly to the ground around them. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready to let it go,” Patrick interrupted his train of thought. 

“Let what go?” Jonny asked, forgetting their conversation from before.

“The summer of us. The bubble we’ve been in since the tour finished. In Buffalo it was just me and you, and I thought that that would have changed when we came to Chicago, but then it just didn’t. It was still just you and me. But now with hockey starting, and writing for the next album beginning in November, everything’s going to change.”

“Not everything, Pat.”

“Oh yeah?” Patrick asked, unfurling from Jonny’s side so he could look into Jonny’s eyes. 

“The way I feel about you will never change. I love you, and yeah, things might be different than they were before, but they are better now, because I’m with you.” 

Patrick’s heels left the floor as he stood on his toes to catch Jonny’s mouth in a kiss that said more than any words Patrick could deliver. 

“You are such a sap, you know that?” Patrick said with a laugh. “Who knew Captain Serious was such a big mush ball under all that monotone?” 

Jonny laughed, and lightly pushed Patrick back before taking his hand.

“Come on, let’s go back to the cabin.”

“But what about our hike?” Patrick asked.

“Oh, now you want to hike?”

“No, no, definitely not. I just don’t want you to be sad we didn’t walk to exhaustion today.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Jonny said, rolling his eyes. “I’m just going to wake up early and go out in the morning while you’re sleeping in.”

“Besides,” Jonny added, grinning at Patrick, “I thought we’d take advantage of those four bedrooms.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you for reading! It honestly means so much to me. I haven’t shared any of my work in a long time and knowing that people have read (and enjoyed!) it makes me so incredibly happy. 
> 
> Next up is my Jeff and Eric spin off “An Evening I Will Not Forget.” I’ve been working on it slowly, and don’t know when it will actually get posted, but be on the lookout for it! I’ll probably write it in its entirety before posting so you don’t have to wait so long between chapters. 
> 
> If you have any suggestions for my Jeff + Eric story let me know! If you had any thoughts on these last two chapters, feel free to leave me a comment as well!
> 
> Thanks again, X


End file.
